Forward Unto Dawn
by Bryon Nightshade
Summary: SatAM prequel. At the cusp of adolescence, Sonic and his childhood friends join the fight to save their world. Not all the challenges that await them are on the battlefield. How mature are the children? How adult? And how resistant to tragedy?
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: This story uses characters and situations copyright one or more of the following: Service and Games, DiC, Funimation. This story is copyright Sam Durbin, a.k.a. Bryon Nightshade._

_This story was inspired by the superior "Sonic kids" stories of Dan Drazen. I flatter myself to think of this story as a successor. If you're unfamiliar with Mr. Drazen's work, it's hardly required for this story, but strongly recommended on its own merits._

* * *

><p>The planet Mobius sails through the cosmos, a small orb of blue circling an average yellow sun. A closer look would reveal the white of clouds and the green of vegetation—an ideal planet for carbon-based life. An even closer inspection would show a handful of black spots on the planet's surface, marring her otherwise beautiful countenance.<p>

The year is 3231. For seven years, Mobius has groaned beneath the heel of a tyrant. Resistance to his rule has been scattered and ineffectual, mostly hiding and scavenging from the ruins of the old order. But that's beginning to change…

The world turns.

A new day is dawning.

* * *

><p>Paul was caught.<p>

He knew by the sound of the hover unit behind him; knew he was in the center of a clearing, out in the open; knew, especially, that the hover unit's heavy blaster had just blown a crater in the ground next to his leg.

He'd tripped, fallen, and, now, was caught.

The hover unit circled around before him. It trained its heavy blaster on him in a wordless but clear threat. There was little he could do but wait.

Despair surged through him. He'd survived for seven years since the coup. Seven years, alone and afraid... and for what? Just to be caught here?

He shivered at the sight of the blaster. He'd seen what it could do to people. He'd been a soldier before. Veteran soldiers have fear just like anyone else; they merely control it better. Exposure to fear wears down its edges, allows it to be handled without cutting so deeply. But it's never gone. As he stared down the hover unit, as it slowly descended into the clearing, Paul felt fear.

Another, deeper chill rocked him. No, death would not be his fate- something much worse was in store. For the hover unit contained two Swatbots. Swatbots were the agents of Robotnik. And Robotnik had power... power like nothing else that had been seen before on the planet Mobius. A power that could plunge a being into servitude- absolute and unceasing servitude.

Robotnik had the Roboticiser.

Paul had seen its victims. He'd seen those poor souls, trapped in metal shells, helpless, hopeless. They were turned into robot facsimiles of their former selves, cruel parodies that bound more tightly than any shackles. That's what was coming for him.

The temptation to run overcame him next. Not Roboticization! Anything but that! Better to try and escape, and be gunned down in the attempt, than to let those fiends get a hold of him!

Perhaps the fear was too intense. Or perhaps the instinct to avoid certain death was simply too strong. Whatever the cause, Paul did not move.

The hover unit set down. The door on its side opened up. A Swatbot stepped out.

It was tall, almost two meters. It was vaguely humanoid. Its arms were long, its chest broad and thick with armor plating. Those facts made it somewhat top-heavy, and its balance wasn't terribly good. But it was strong and tough and surprisingly quick; it didn't seem fair that such a heavy robot should be able to run down its prey.

Its head was a half-sphere or dome shape. A horizontal red stripe of glass served as its eye. It was dark gray in color, which served it well in its natural habitat.

In its hands was a blaster- a smaller version of the energy weapon mounted to the hover unit. Smaller, but still quite lethal.

"Freeze, citizen," said the Swatbot. The fact that Paul already was freezing didn't change how it approached the situation. Its programming was rigid about some things. The Swatbot kept Paul covered with its blaster while its comrade stepped out of the hover unit.

Hover units always had a crew of two. While the first Swatbot ensured Paul didn't move, the second approached to take him into custody. Every step it took towards him caused Paul's heart to quaver. Panic and the urge to run swept through him again. He remained motionless.

When it reached him, the Swatbot began to bind him. He twisted Paul's arms behind him and shackled his wrists together. Now he was well and truly caught- the moment the Swatbot took a hold of him, there could be no more fighting. Its grip was far too strong. The Swatbot bound his ankles together next.

The reality of his doom took hold of Paul. He could no longer even entertain the notion of running. He was helpless as a newborn. The Swatbot would sling him over its shoulder, haul him back to its hover unit, and return to the city...his eternal slavery would begin...

And that's when things took a turn for the surreal.

From the boundary of the clearing came two children, one boy, one girl, he blue, she brown. They were arguing. Loudly.

"I don't care if I _do_ sound like a sissy, the answer's no!"

"You just won't admit I'm right!"

"If you ever _were_ right..."

"I was right yesterday!"

Paul wanted to cry out to them, to warn them off. Even as he opened his mouth, his captor pushed him over. Paul couldn't move his arms or feet to catch himself. He fell like timber.

The breath flew from Paul's lungs when he hit. He gasped in pain and surprise. Above him, the Swatbot intoned, "Freeze, citizens."

"...well, I was right NOW!" The brown girl ducked behind a stump in the clearing. The boy began... no, that wasn't possible... spinning his feet?

Whatever he was doing, he dashed past the front of both Swatbots. He stopped besides the Swatbot at the hover unit, smacked it on the hip, and laughed, "Tag! You're it!" Then, in a blur of motion and dust, he was gone.

The Swatbots split up. One chased the boy. The other approached the stump. Paul tried to cry out to her, but he couldn't manage it, couldn't warn her, couldn't tell her that her doom was so very close...

The Swatbot pointed the tip of its blaster over the stump. The girl rolled away and scrambled to her feet, facing the bot. It tried to follow her with the blaster, but found it couldn't. A bit of rope tied the end of the blaster to the stump. Paul blinked hard. When had that happened? How had he missed it?

The girl faced off with the bot, edging away nervously, but still close. The bot had to release its blaster if it wanted to follow her. It did.

"Bunnie! Antoine!" shouted the girl. The Swatbot stepped towards her, its arms spread wide to snatch her if she dodged left or right. She backed up, step by step, letting it close in on her.

That's when Paul spotted another group of children. Three of them, behind the Swatbot, ran right at it. Two of them held a thick branch between them at the level of the Swatbot's knees. The other was pulling on rubber gloves.

It looked like the Swatbot had the brown girl cornered, but the children caught up to it. The branch hit the Swatbot behind both knees. At the same time, the brown girl lunged forward, body-checking the Swatbot. Normally, light as she was, such a move would have been futile and dangerous. When combined with the other hit, it caused the Swatbot to jacknife backwards.

The brown girl rolled off the Swatbot. "Rotor! Now!"

The last kid raised a screwdriver high overhead and plunged it down into the Swatbot's "eye". With the other hand he raised a rock. He hammered the rock down onto the end of the screwdriver, impaling it deep into the Swatbot's head.

There was an almighty crack; the bot spasmed once, let out a puff of smoke, and was still.

The children stood still for a moment as they surveyed their handiwork. The blue boy who'd ran off earlier appeared in their midst. The wind from his passage tussled their hair. When he skidded to a stop it showered Paul with dirt.

"Where's the other Swatbot?" said the brown girl with alarm.

The boy laughed and raised his right arm. In it was a Swatbot's hand, messily amputated from the arm. The children erupted into chatter.

They paid Paul no mind. That was just as well, because he needed a moment to address the thought that was dominating his mind:

Just who were these kids, anyway?

* * *

><p>One hour earlier…<p>

* * *

><p>Robotropolis.<p>

A name synonymous with darkness and danger. Its very existence anathema to organic life.

The city was murky even by day. It was the concentrated industrial heart of an empire, and it had the pollutants to prove it. Its rulers were focused solely on efficiency. The facilities of the old regime, which were remarkably clean-running, were left in place because replacing them would be too expensive. The miles of new construction—the factories, refineries, and laboratories, and the power plants that supported them—had no similar restrictions. They spewed toxins into the air day and night, until the skies were choked with smog and the water flowed with death.

Between that and the roving Swatbots who imposed Robotnik's strict version of order, few people ever ventured to the city, and none lingered.

Which is what made this sound so unusual:

"…not my mother…"

"…totally immature and reckless…"

Two children's voices rang out. High but harsh, the sound was like two songbirds trying to sing over one another.

"…like I need a leash and collar…"

"…no, too smart to listen…"

"…scaredy-cat…"

"…jerk…"

A new noise reached the children's ears. Their voices cut out like throwing a switch as they concentrated their faculties on listening. They turned to each other and shouted, "Duck!"

Down the alley cruised a hover unit. It looked vaguely like an egg on its side. Flush with its underside was a searchlight that could penetrate even Robotropolis' proverbial smog. Mounted to its top was a heavy blaster. The cockpit was set back somewhat along the leading edge, to allow some protection for the two-Swatbot crew. It floated without apparent means; its drive had no external moving parts and made no emissions save a high-pitched swooping sound.

Even the bold and well-armed avoided hover units. Seven years of Robotnik's rule had eliminated most of the bold and well-armed.

The unit passed out of the alley. A few moments later, the two children emerged from separate hiding places, brushed themselves off, and looked to each other once more.

"So," the boy said with a smirk, "where were we?"

The smirk was natural for Sonic Hedgehog. He was special, and he knew it, had known it for all twelve years of his life. Indeed, he was the sort who doesn't look quite right without a smirk on his face. He wore his arrogance like a second skin, and it informed the rest of his posture—the crossed arms, the easy leaning-back, the tapping of a foot at the slightest delay from others. His eyes were black, and ever alert. They noticed everything that went on, but even that was a form of contempt, for things that could break his nonchalance were rare. Most of the things he saw could be ignored, without even giving the hint that they'd been noticed.

His fur was blue except for tan on the belly and arms. Though he was a hedgehog, his quills were all swept back into a single ridge along his spine. He wore white gloves—although keeping them white in such a place as Robotropolis was impossible—and custom-made red shoes. No lesser shoes could have withstood the abuse Sonic imposed. For Sonic was fast—faster than natural law would seem to allow. He was the self-proclaimed "Fastest Thing Alive". Both the title and its self-imposition were apt.

Princess Sally Acorn didn't respond at first. She pretended to be picking something from her arm while she worked to regain some dignity. Though she was no older than Sonic, she always felt compelled to act older in his company. Her brow was creased with worry, and the lines developing there revealed that she wore this expression often. She wore practical blue boots and a blue vest that, thanks to the growth she'd experienced in the past year, she could no longer fasten in the front. Her hair was auburn, and she kept it cropped short and out of the way. Her fur was plain brown. Her family included both squirrels and chipmunks; though she was unmistakably of rodent lineage, her tail was little more than a tuft of brown. Her eyes were large, blue, and intelligent. Her body was painfully thin, her head a size too large; yet, if one looked at her, you couldn't help but think there was an extra something to her that wasn't so easily described.

Her face relaxed, and when she spoke, it was like a mother exasperated with a noisome toddler. "We were having another pointless discussion," she said, "of why we do reconnaissance missions, and why pleading to jump every Swatbot we come across is plain irritating."

"Really?" said Sonic, voice dripping with sarcasm. "'Cause the way I remember, you were just about to admit that there's a Swatbot right nearby with our names on it."

"Sonic, saying that something has 'our names on it' means that it's gonna get us."

"Get us? Get us? Do I look like I can be gotten?"

"No… you look like you don't get it."

"Hey…"

"There's no point staying here," she continued. "We've already done everything we came here to do."

"Exactly! Now we can go for bonus points!"

"'Bonus points'? This isn't a game, Sonic. There are no 'bonus points' in real life."

"Style points?"

She ground her teeth together. "Now you're just trying to make me angry."

"It's working, ain't it?"

She scowled. Sonic laughed.

"Sonic," she said, "we've had this argument six times on this trip alone. And we come to the city two to three times a week. That means we've gone through this… you know, I'm not sure you can count that high."

"Sal, past a certain point, numbers don't matter. Take my speed. You think I've got a number for how fast I go? No way! All I know is that there's scootin', there's rootin', and when I'm _really_ goin' all out, there's scootin' _and_ rootin'." He waved a hand dismissively. "You sweat the small stuff too much. You think Robuttnik'd really notice a Swatbutt here and there?"

"In a word? Yes."

"Puh-lease!"

"Sonic, the more Robotnik thinks we get into the city, the more precautions he'll take. If we knocked off a Swatbot on every trip, soon we wouldn't be able to get in at all."

"You're no fun."

"Sonic…"

"Whoa, check out the time! We'd better juice on over to Rote an' Bunnie before Ant talks their ears off!"

Sally sighed. Sonic hadn't actually agreed with her, but at this point, she'd take what she could get.

* * *

><p>"Sanitation" was a disregarded concept in that city. The population, after all, was robots. Neither they nor their rulers cared much where garbage went or what happened to it, so long as it was out of the way.<p>

So the trash heaps were born.

The city was girdled by a ring of heaps of different size and composition. Mounds of garbage and industrial waste grew, and grew, and grew some more. They were composed primarily of metal and building materials, broken parts and rubble. Some areas were dumping grounds for industrial chemicals, and no Mobian—or robot, for that matter—dared set foot there. Even the best parts of the heaps were tangled mazes of jagged edges, slowly corroding beneath the city's toxic haze.

They were, in short, a place where even hoofed animals considered shoes.

The heaps were labyrinthine expanses, and they were ever-changing as new rubbish was added day by day. It was too hazardous to patrol, so by and large Robotnik didn't try. He concentrated his forces on the more orderly parts of the city. Meanwhile, those at the margins of his empire—say, a collection of young but bold children—used the trash heaps as their way in and out of the city.

A young rabbit doe stood in the heaps—she hadn't found a place that looked safe enough to sit on. Out of all the children, she was the first and most obvious to enter puberty, a fact her childhood friends were having trouble evading. She had a pleasant disposition, though being in the city had soured her normally cheerful expression. Before coming, she'd applied eye shadow with an inexpert hand. Even in dangerous territory she believed in looking good. As a compromise with this belief, she wore a purple jumpsuit, so as to not risk ruining any of her "good" clothes. She pursed her lips in worry and reached to her ears. The bright ribbons she wore there were becoming discolored. "Rotor," she said with a soft Southern accent, "how much longer? You know Ah hate it here."

Rotor paused. He'd crouched low to inspect some discarded components. If the children hadn't had him, they wouldn't be here at all. "Well," he said, "you know what Sally said. We're going to look around until they come back."

"Wonderful," Bunnie mumbled.

Rotor grimaced. "I-I don't control when they come back," he said. "It's not my fault."

Bunnie sighed. "I never said it was your fault, Rotor-hun."

Rotor opened his mouth to speak, but his eye caught on a different piece of machinery, and he looked over to it. This was not unusual. Rotor had always shown greater talent with mechanisms than for people. Rotor was a walrus. Although Mobian walruses were bipeds, Rotor never seemed quite at home on land. His fingers were sharp and clever, but his eyes were doleful. The natural droop in the shape of his mouth was accentuated by a moping insecurity. He was the sort of person who tries above all to be useful, because if he is not, he knows no reason to exist.

He wore a backwards-turned baseball cap and a bandolier with perhaps a dozen pockets. Though the other children wouldn't admit it, the bandolier fascinated them. You never knew what would come out of it next.

"Mademoiselle Bunnie, you are being in too much rushing," said a heavily-accented voice. "You are being like zat fyu-el who tinks zat running around with fastness makes 'im sooo specialment…"

Bunnie rolled her eyes, a fact missed by Antoine, whose words had descended to bitter mumbling. Antoine's father had been a member of the Royal Guard. He'd been lost in the coup, which had left a strong impression on Antoine. Antoine aspired to be everything his father was. Sometimes, this was harmless, like in the uniforms and boots Antoine was able to conjure up for himself. Other aspects of it—such as his father's borderline illiteracy in common Mobian—were not so endearing. Most of all, his pretensions of military honor made him Sonic's natural enemy. Sonic was everything Antoine wasn't, yet had much Antoine longed for. They couldn't be considered rivals, not when Antoine was so far out of Sonic's league. Sonic tweaked Antoine because it amused him, but Antoine hated Sonic as only a jealous admirer can.

Antoine's large forehead, long snout, huge eyebrows, and condescending demeanor all helped people buy the picture Sonic sold: that Antoine was an over-filled balloon in need of popping.

"Ah think Ah've been more than patient here," said Bunnie. She looked at the ribbons again. Yep, discolored, and their ends were beginning to curl. "Ah ain't like Sugar-hog, neither."

"Look, I know I'm cool, but you don't have to talk about me all the time."

Sonic and Sally walked to join their friends. Behind Sonic, Sally made gagging motions. Bunnie giggled.

"How'd it go?" asked Rotor.

"Boring, as usual," said Sonic. "I dunno, I guess we're waiting until the Swatbots start wearing 'kick me' signs."

He glanced over at Sally with a grin, daring her to speak. She ignored him, and his expression fell. "What about you guys?" she asked.

"Knicks and knacks, mostly," said Rotor. "I've got 'em packed away." He patted his bandolier.

"Every little bit helps," said Sally.

"Maybe someday you'll build something really cool," said Sonic.

Rotor frowned. "Well, I already built that coffee machine, and our watches," he said, pointing to Sonic's wrist. "How much cooler can we get?"

"I dunno, maybe an auto-chili-dog machine," said Sonic, licking his lips theatrically. "Or maybe a machine to check if Antoine actually has a brain."

"I 'eard zat."

"It'd be wasted if you hadn't."

"Ssh!" hissed Bunnie. "Y'all hear that?"

They went silent instantly. Bunnie's brow knit in concentration.

"Those are alarms," she declared. "We need to get the hoo-ha out of here."

The others nodded. There was no doubting those ears.

"Right," said Sally, asserting control at once. "This way."

They set off, moving quickly for their size. They ducked between piles of parts, skirted around masses of material and dodged past towers of trash. The heaps formed natural passageways; by staying down in those passageways, the children limited how much they could be seen. It was like running down a metal canyon.

"They're all sorts o' stirred up," said Bunnie.

"How can you tell?" asked Sally.

"Freeze, citizens."

The Swatbot's voice came from behind them, atop one of the walls of their passage. None of the children even considered stopping. They darted around the next bend before the bot could draw a bead.

"We won't outrun it," said Rotor.

"Sonic!" barked Sally. "Distract it!"

"I'm gone," said Sonic. In the blink of an eye, he was.

"Keep your eyes open," said Sally.

"What for, Sally-girl?" asked Bunnie.

"Anything," Sally responded. No one could press the conversation further. One Swatbot the children could defeat with courage and cunning. But there was never only one Swatbot. If one had found them, more would soon, more than the children could dream of fighting or hope to elude. The only defense was to get as far away as possible.

That meant running.

They twisted around a pile of damaged Swatbot parts, where half a dozen arms reached forlornly out of the junk. They dashed past a year's worth of metal shavings from a machine shop. They knew better than to complain, or to slow down.

Behind them, they heard blaster shots, and maybe—very faintly—childish laughter.

"Oh mah stars," said Bunnie, "sounds like another Swatbot's on our tails."

"There!" said Sally. The children came to a halt before a teetering tower of trash. Sally's tiny frame trembled as she heaved breaths, but she still managed to speak. "Rotor, where should we pull?"

Rotor looked over the base of the tower. A touch here, a glance there—he cut through possibilities one by one, until he found the one he liked. "There," he said, pointing to a strut that was bent almost double.

"Grab it, everyone," Sally said. As they moved, she let out a clear, sharp whistle, then joined them. "One, two, pull!... One, two, pull!... One, two, pull!"

On the last pull, the foot of the strut pulled free. Ominous cracking and snapping sounds came from the tower.

Sonic slid to a halt in front of Sally. "What's up, Sal?"

"Move!" she answered, grabbing his arm and pulling. The children started running again. The sounds in the garbage pile had gone from snapping to moaning.

A pair of Swatbots rounded the bend in time to see the children nip out of sight. They pursued—briefly. The tower of trash's moaning became a rumbling, and finally a crashing. The Swatbots noticed as it began to topple. They raised their hands in self-defense. It was like holding an umbrella against a tidal wave.

When it was over, the landscape of the trash heaps had been rearranged yet again. The Swatbots had been claimed.

* * *

><p>The city of Mobotropolis was built nestled against the sea. It had developed, as most cities do, without any sort of plan or pattern. The Royal Palace had been built nearby the water's edge, and at the time was close to the city's center. By the year 3224, the city had swept on into the surrounding lands. This growth was tempered by a near-compulsive need to keep the city beautiful. Fountains and parks dotted the city; its irrigation and sewer systems were second to none.<p>

In that year, when Sonic and his friends were merely five, Robotnik launched his coup, seized control, and took the city's growth in a new direction.

3231 saw the city laid out in a series of concentric circles, like half a shooting target. In the middle was Robotropolis Headquarters. This giant, ovoid skyscraper had grown out of the Royal Palace, as Robotnik added new sections and facilities as he needed them. Surrounding the HQ were research and development labs, and a select few of the most important factories.

The ring around that housed power plants and factories; around that, refineries, raw materials processing, and maintenance shops; around that, endless warehouses and the facilities that supported the city itself. Surrounding this ring were the trash heaps.

Yet even the heaps were circled. Beyond the heaps lay a fallow land, a great grassy expanse that separated the city from the Great Forest. Before the coup the city was closing in on the forest's edge. As the city choked out the life that surrounded it, only hearty grasses and weeds could survive the close proximity. Year by year the forest retreated, leaving grass behind. In a few years, even the weeds would be gone in many places, leaving nothing but cracked and dusty earth.

The grassy no-man's-land was wider in some places than others. Where the children crossed, it was only about a kilometer from the trash heaps to the forest.

No longer running, but moving quickly all the same, the children set out from the heaps.

"Oh mah stars, mah bed is callin' me," said Bunnie.

"No joke," said Rotor. "I hate Swatbots."

"I guess you got your wish," Sally said to Sonic. "Weren't you wanting to knock off a couple Swatbots? Well, we got chased, terrified, and only just escaped. Are you happy now?"

Sonic put a hand to his chin in mock consideration. "Yeah," he said, "I gotta say I'm pretty stoked."

Sally sighed, but Rotor said, "It's pretty cool to think that we leveled two Swatbots like that."

"You can't even complain about picking fights," Sonic added. "That alarm went off before the bots found us."

"I was wondering about that," said Sally. "But if the Swatbots weren't looking for us… who were they looking for?"

"AaaAGH!" yelped Antoine.

"What?" said Sonic. "Did your uniform get dirtyyYY!" Sonic's words got away from him as Sally forced him to the ground. The other children also dove for the dirt.

"What was that all about?" said Sonic.

"Look where Antoine was looking," Sally whispered.

Sonic followed her outstretched hand—and saw a hover unit.

It was keeping low to the ground. It wasn't close by, but the children could see it clearly, so it wasn't too far away. They kept their heads as low in the grass as they could and still see, except for Antoine, who lay flat and clamped his hands over his eyes.

"It's lookin' for somethin'," said Sonic. "Check out the way it wiggles."

"Wiggles?" said Sally.

"You know," said Sonic impatiently. He stuck his head forward, then turned it from side to side. "Wiggling!"

"Wiggling," Sally repeated. "Riiight." She looked back at the hover unit.

She saw it turning to and fro. It *was* wiggling. She glanced back at Sonic, then set her face. There was no way she'd ever admit he was right about that.

"Lookit," Bunnie said. "Ah think it found somethin'!"

The hover unit fired once, into the forest boundary. Before reaching the edge, it raised its altitude, cruising above the trees.

"Sally," said Rotor, "there's a clearing over there."

"I've got a bad feeling about this," said Sally. "Come on, let's go. You too, Antoine."

"Of coursing, my preencess," said Antoine. He rose and dusted himself off.

"Now!"

He yelped, but obeyed. The children set off at a run once more. In moments they reached the forest. They'd cleverly concealed the mouth of the path. Even though they were in the safety of the forest, their travel was free.

"The clearing's this way," said Sonic. He led them off the main path, onto a smaller one running parallel to the tree line. It took all his self-control not to outrun his friends. He was still first to lay eyes on the scene.

"Get a load of this," he said. "It's a grown-up!"

The grown-up was trying to get across the clearing. Too late—the hover unit came over the treeline behind him. It fired its heavy blaster at him. Although the blast hit the ground next to him, he still fell to the ground.

The hover unit passed over him, circled, and began to descend. It kept its blaster trained on him.

"They're gonna nab him!" said Bunnie.

"Sal, we gotta move," said Sonic. He looked ready to bolt at any moment.

Sally's eyes darted around. They paused for the barest moments on Sonic's backpack, Rotor's bandolier, a nearby stick, a stump in the clearing. She nodded. "Alright, everyone," she said. "Here's the plan…"

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	2. Chapter 2

"So, what do we do with him?"

The children huddled together, a few paces away from the grown-up they'd saved. He sat on the ground, looking at them in amazement. He rubbed his wrists where the shackles had been. He was an adult dog with alternating brown and black patches in his fur and floppy ears. He looked to be in his early 30s, though the past few years had not been kind. His limbs were thin from malnutrition; in places his fur was thinner. He wore a padded shirt that bore a vague resemblance to the uniform Antoine wore. You might almost confuse them if you removed all the insignia and the lighting was bad.

Rotor had spoken first. His brow was knit with concern.

"We can't let him know where Knothole is, right? So what do we do with him?"

"We've got to take him with us, I guess," Sally said. Her tone of voice added the words, "Don't we?"

"I don't see why," said Sonic. "Doesn't he have somewhere else to go?"

"He should," said Sally, but with as much uncertainty as before.

"Why don't we ask him what he wants?" said Bunnie reasonably.

"No way," said Rotor. "This is our decision."

"I'm with Rote on this," said Sonic. "Who cares what he thinks?"

"Sacre bleu!" said Antoine. "Are you styoo-pid? 'Ee's a _grown-up_!"

They stopped talking and looked at the adult like a glaring of cats. After a moment of awkwardness, he raised a hand and waved weakly. That seemed to spook them. They took several steps away and reformed their huddle. Each one, from time to time, would look out of the group and stare at him. It was as if each needed to keep an eye on him, and each one needed to be convinced he was real.

For each of the children was wrestling with a couple of problems and a number of troublesome facts.

For the past seven years, they'd known exactly one adult—Rosie, the nanny who'd become their surrogate mother. All of their notions of what adults are came from her, and from hazy memories of their preschool-aged days. Their ideas of what a grown-up should be like, and what their relations to one should be, were murky and indistinct. They'd had no practice at it.

Complicating things was the unfortunate fact that they'd saved him. It was hard for them to reconcile. Their last memories of adults were of them being so much larger and more capable—and the first one they'd met, they'd had to help. It was like a newborn having to slap the doctor.

This couldn't have come at a more confusing time. On the one hand, they weren't little kids. On the other, they weren't yet teenagers, who are convinced that the line between themselves and adults is mostly academic.

"So what do we do with him?" said Rotor, with desperation this time.

"He could be useful," Bunnie said reasonably. "I'm sure Rosie wants someone her age to talk to."

"He ain't her age," said Sonic.

"Well, he's a grown-up, at least," Bunnie said in annoyance.

They considered this. It carried a lot of weight.

"Excuse me," said the adult. "I'm not sure where we are right now. I usually exit the city further north than this."

"See?" said Bunnie. "He needs our help!"

"How helpful is an adult who needs *our* help?" said Sonic.

"That's not fair," said Bunnie. "We've helped each other out plenty of times. Helpin' him out once is no big deal, right?"

"I tink 'e will be very helping," said Antoine. "'E could no 'ave survived zis long if 'e were styoo-pid, no?"

Sonic laughed and gave Antoine a look that was all smile.

Antoine shifted uncomfortably. "And why are you looking at me zat way?"

"Oh, no reason," said Sonic, smiling so wide it seemed larger than his face. "I just think you have no *clue* what you just said."

"All I care about is… well, that he doesn't know where Knothole is," said Rotor. "It's too risky. I don't know why we can't just send him home. It's not like we need him."

"Rote's got it right," said Sonic. "We've never needed a grown-up before. We need one now like we need fleas."

"Eet is not zat we can do nothing without ze adult," said Antoine. "Eet is zat we can do bettair with 'eem."

"Course *you'd* do better with him," said Sonic. "You can't do worse."

"Zis is not about me," said Antoine fiercely. "Eet is about us!"

Bunnie pouted in frustration. "Sally-girl," she said, "say something!"

Sally had been quiet while her friends talked. Now they all stopped and looked to her.

She looked very lonely.

"Why do I have to decide?" she said quietly.

"No one eez saying…" Antoine began, but then stopped. The words weren't true.

The moment stretched out. The other children saw Sally in an unusual light. She looked, for all the world, like a scared little girl. Perhaps because that's exactly what she was.

"I think we should do what he wants," she said.

As one, the children seemed to deflate.

A gentle night breeze coasted through the night, rustling leaves all around. It was the loudest sound by far.

Sonic crossed his arms. "Whatever," he mumbled. "You think this guy knows better than… never mind. Whatever."

"What does that mean?"

Sonic shot Sally a hurt look. "It's supposed to be you," he said.

Sally said nothing for a moment. Then she shrugged.

"Alright, then," said Bunnie. She left the group and walked over to the adult. The others followed her with their eyes only. "Evenin'. Ah'm Bunnie. These are my friends. That's Antoine, Rotor, Sonic, and… Sally," she said, hesitating only a heartbeat. She didn't know why she shouldn't reveal Sally's royal lineage, but it didn't seem right at that moment.

"And I'm Paul," replied the adult.

Bunnie blushed—that was about all she'd planned on saying. "Uh… can we keep ya?"

Paul laughed, causing Bunnie's blush to deepen. "Ah mean—oh mah stars, that didn't come out right…"

"You mean you want me to go to your home?" said Paul.

"Well, if that's what you want," said Bunnie. "We wouldn't wanna, you know, boss ya around or nothin'."

Paul scratched his chin. "I'll tell you," he said, "that was amazing. I've never seen kids do what you just did."

"That's 'cause you've never seen kids as cool as us," said Sonic.

"That's probably true," said Paul thoughtfully. "I think I will come with you. Unless you think that's bossing me around."

"Oh no no no!" said Bunnie. "It's nothin'."

"We'll need to blindfold him," said Rotor. Paul caught Rotor's eyes even as Rotor was trying to get a scowl off of his face. Rotor looked away. "Need to keep Knothole secret," he mumbled.

"I hope you understand," said Sally, reentering the conversation without her prior hesitancy. "Knothole is our home. We couldn't stand to have to leave there. And, well, if something happened to you… not that we think anything will happen to you," she added quickly. "But if something did, we can't let anything happen to Knothole."

Paul shrugged. "I won't recognize anything anyway. But if it makes you feel better, sure thing. Just… how far is it? I don't want to be stumbling all over the place."

"You won't be," said Sonic. "I gotcha covered."

Paul blinked. "I don't even know what that means."

The children tittered. "You'll see!" "No he won't, he'll be blindfolded!" "Ha ha!"

"First things first," said Sally. "Rotor, go to the hover unit. We can't leave it here, it's seen too much. Activate its autopilot. See if you can't get it to fly into Robotropolis HQ."

"All over it," said Rotor.

"Worst case scenario, they shoot it down, and that still destroys the evidence. Bunnie, could you spare one of your ribbons?"

"Sure thing, Sally-girl." She removed the ribbon from one of her lapin ears. "Mr. Paul, could y'all kneel down now?"

She cinched the ribbon down over his eyes. Paul felt a wave of awkwardness rush over him. He was completely at the mercy of these children now. "You're not just trying to play a trick on me, right?" he asked.

"Oh, not *just*," said Sonic. His friends giggled knowingly.

Tiny hands grasped his arms. They guided his hands onto straps—probably the straps, Paul thought, of the backpack Sonic wore. "There you go," said Bunnie. "Hold on tight!"

"Why?" asked Paul. Only giggles answered.

"We'll start off slow," said Sonic. "Scootin', for starters."

"What does that meeeAAAN!"

The dust from Sonic's passage slowly settled back to the ground. The other children took a couple minutes to stop laughing.

* * *

><p>Rosie waited.<p>

She was doing more and more of that, these days. There was nothing for it. Age was crippling her. Even a few years ago she'd been able to sneak into Robotropolis to steal food for the children. Those days were gone.

Arthritis and osteoporosis had been stalking her for years. Her vision was starting to go bad. Walking even short distances left her breathing hard. Last year she'd twisted her ankle, something that had happened before. This time, though, it was weeks before the pain was gone, months before she could fully trust it again. More than anything, she *felt* old. This was novel.

Of course, she reflected, she'd been old for a while. But she'd never felt like she was an old lady. Old ladies were useless. They were dependants. They were the sort of person you saw on the street and hoped they still remembered where they were going. And then hoped they didn't die getting there.

Old age… That would be her fate, and sooner rather than later. How far away was she? How much time did she have left? A feeling of helplessness washed over her. She'd kept the children safe all these years. She'd cared for them, attended to them. She was at their bedside when they were sick. She was with them when they cried. She was behind them when they needed support. The children were her entire life.

And now they were venturing out, and she could not follow, for she was trapped in her own failing body. What could she still do for them?

She sighed. Even that seemed like an effort.

So she kept her vigil, waiting for the children to return. The tension always kept her heart taut as a bowstring.

The tension eased when she heard the sounds of Sonic approaching. There was still a bit of waiting for her, but it wasn't nervous or anxious anymore.

She had to wait because of the way the children liked to enter the village. Knothole village was built in a slight depression of the land. On the side nearer Robotropolis, the drop-off was not very tall but very steep, while the other side, bounded by a small river, faded back into the forest. The river supplied all of Knothole's water needs as well as the occasional fish to break up the children's diets.

On the cliff side, there was the dead trunk of an old tree. Hidden inside the trunk was a slide. Given the choice between walking all the way around the village, crossing the river, and entering Knothole from behind, or taking the slide, the children took the slide. Besides which, they loved it.

Rosie closed her eyes and listened. Any moment now, she'd hear high-pitched giggling as someone came home, safe another night…

She frowned. This wasn't the sound she was expecting. It was about twenty years too old. And screaming.

She opened her eyes just as an adult sailed over the pile of hay that normally cushioned slide-riders.

"I'm sorry!" she said, bustling over to the newcomer. "I wasn't expecting guests, oh my, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," said the adult with a groan. "I've been worse."

She offered him a hand, which he accepted. "It's just… why, it's been so long. You're the first new person to come to the village in years!"

"Really?" he replied. "How many people are here? …oh, my back!"

"Come on, easy now… just the six children. And me," she added.

"And you live all the way out here?" he said.

"Well… yes," she said, suddenly feeling awkward. She heard the sounds of Sonic running away. She was alone with a complete stranger. Her brow knit in concern. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

He chuckled. "I suppose we haven't introduced ourselves properly. I'm Paul. It's nice to meet you."

Although her lips were pursed, she still responded. Manners were manners. "Rosie," she said, extending a hand. "It's a pleasure."

Paul shook her hand and gave her an appraising look. "You're not any of their mothers," he said.

"No," she replied tartly. "I suppose I'm not."

He nodded. "So… did they rescue you, too?"

She drew back in surprise. "Is that what happened? They rescued you?"

"Yes, they did. Some Swatbots had me caught. The children destroyed them and set me free. They're really talented, I was amazed at what they could do."

"Oh," said Rosie. She couldn't think of anything else to say; the top of her head wasn't where she remembered it to be.

Paul frowned. "Are you alright?"

"It's just… well, they've changed a bit," she said. "Over the time I've known them."

"Oh? When was that?"

"I've known them since they were infants," she said, with more than a hint of pride. "I took care of them. When the… well. Seven years ago, I brought them out here. I knew this place was being built, so I knew we could survive here. So… we did," she said, finishing lamely. "And here we are."

Paul looked at her thoughtfully. "I bet that took a lot of work," he said. "I know how hard it was for just me to survive. I know the things I had to do. And you managed that for yourself, and six kids. That's pretty impressive. You're not exactly young anymore, are you?"

Rosie's eyes narrowed. "No," she said.

Paul seemed to sense his mistake. "Uh… it's a compliment." She said nothing. "I was just saying you're awfully skilled. I mean, you must be to train those kids this well."

That just seemed to make things worse. "Mr. Paul," she said harshly, "you are welcome to stay in this village. But when you speak to me next, you'd best have a civil tongue. And I did not 'train' the children to do anything. They learned that themselves. I am their nanny!" She stormed away, leaving him standing there.

She took an unkind pleasure from knowing that he was lost.

But it didn't last. Neither did her anger. Sure, she stewed in both of them for a time. Before long, though, both were replaced by remorse: the children were coming home, and she wouldn't be there to see them.

It had happened before. There'd been a time when they'd tried to conceal their trips to Robotropolis. Rosie had played along, pretending not to notice the bags under their eyes and their inattentiveness the next day. It was a game of sorts. But that had changed. Recently, Sally had declared to Rosie that they would go to Robotropolis when they needed to. She'd been expecting a fight, so she had all the other children with her for support and had carefully rehearsed her arguments.

Instead, Rosie had told them to be careful, trust each other, and please let her know so she could wait for them to come back.

Thus far, they'd done so pretty reliably. And Rosie had been there to welcome them back, offer them help, treat the occasional scrapes or cuts, and put them to bed.

It was such a little thing, really. Not necessary. But important all the same.

So she swallowed her anger and headed back towards the slide.

The moon was out, but the darkness in Knothole was still almost complete. The same trees that kept the village out of sight from the air screened the moonlight. Rosie had walked through the village so often that her feet knew the way. She felt more insubstantial than ever as she glided between the barely visibly huts.

As she passed Sally and Bunnie's hut, she heard whispers. Sally reflecting on the mission, no doubt, and Bunnie listening with patience if not always with comprehension. It was late, after all. There were no secrets between those two, nothing they did not discuss. If you told one of them something, then went to tell the other, she would already know when you got to her. When Bunnie began to feel the first pangs of puberty, she'd told Sally before she'd told Rosie.

Rosie passed Tails' and Sonic's hut. The only sound she heard coming from it was a single whimper. Tails. He'd always done that, even as a baby. Who was to know what the infant Tails had seen? Sonic had found him in a dumpster in Robotropolis, barely alive: a tiny orange fox kit with two tails, emaciated with hunger but burning with life. Tails was (probably) seven now, bright and charming and athletic and intelligent. His presence forced the others to act more mature than they were. He loved them openly, and they doted on him in return. For all of that, every night, at least once, he would whimper. Rosie had never asked what he saw in those dreams; she doubted Tails himself remembered. Still, she wondered, and feared.

No other sounds came from the hut. Perhaps Sonic had not returned yet.

She passed Rotor and Antoine's hut. She heard snoring—Antoine. Antoine denied being a snorer. Perhaps because he was so fastidious in his housekeeping, he couldn't stand accusations of being a slob. The children knew better. Rotor was Antoine's roommate because he slept like a stone. It wasn't a perfect arrangement. Rotor's belongings were kept in piles instead of on shelves or in drawers. To his mind, things didn't have to be organized if he knew where they were. He lived, as Sonic put it, "in a neat mess". This drove Antoine to distraction. The two had agreed to divide the hut in half. What happened in each half, in theory, was that person's business. Rosie didn't believe it worked; she'd seen Antoine leave the hut muttering to himself in French too often.

Rosie walked on. The last hut she passed was making rustling noises. A person struggling to sleep in an unfamiliar bed. Paul. Rosie resolutely thought nothing, and headed for the slide.

She heard voices as she approached. "I just don't like it," said Rotor. "Sure, he's a grown-up, but—so what? That didn't keep him from getting caught."

"Yeah, but what's your point?" Sonic replied.

"Well… I think we're making a mistake in… oh, hi Rosie."

The children stopped and stared at Rosie, merely an outline in the darkness. She looked back at them. They were little more than lighter shadows within darker shadows, but she could feel them. She knew them so closely. Rotor had an attitude of embarrassment. He didn't like that the conversation had been walked in upon. Sonic, on the other hand, was defiant.

She knew this. _Knew_ it. And wondered what they felt from her.

"What were you talking about?" she said.

They hesitated. Sonic spoke. "We found a grown-up in the forest," he said. "We were tryin' to figure out what to do with him."

Here was a chance to take control of the conversation… but she couldn't do it. She said, instead, "I hope you figure it out. If… if you want advice, you can always come to me."

"We will," they said together. "Thanks, Rosie," Rotor added.

For a moment, Rosie imagined all the different ways the conversation could go. All of them ended with her comforting the children, dispensing sage advice, and leaving them encouraged. This was her role; this was what she needed to do, what she was here for. But she couldn't grasp how to get there from here. The children were darker now, somehow. She could no longer feel them.

They began to walk past her. They said nothing as they passed, and neither did Rosie, caught in the intersection of their lives. At the last, she turned and said, "Don't stay up too late."

"We won't," they said together. And then they were gone, their forms melted away into the night.

Rosie returned to her hut and cried and cried and cried.

* * *

><p>Dawn came to Knothole.<p>

Noisily.

Not long after the village brightened out of night, the shrieking sounds of Sonic's running surrounded the village. No one got to sleep in.

Paul rushed out of his hut in a panic. "What's going on?" he hollered. "Are we under attack?"

Most of the children weren't awake enough even to laugh at him. Tails's face appeared in his window, though. "No, Mr. Paul," he said. "That's just Sonic doing his morning exercises. Like he always says, "you snooze, you lose". It's good to get the blood flowing early, don't you agree?"

Paul covered his face with his hand, feeling very foolish. "I haven't had my blood flowing *this* early since… since my drill sergeant ruled my life, seven years ago."

"You were in the army, Mr. Paul?"

"Yeah… gosh, that was a long time ago. You probably weren't even alive back then."

"That's what everyone tells me. People always talk about 'before you were alive'. I'm not so sure. We don't know my age, exactly."

"Oh, you can't be older than…" Paul looked at Tails and frowned. He looked young enough. Then again, he had bright and lucid eyes set amongst those youthful features. They made Tails feel older than he looked. "…seven?" Paul guessed.

Tails giggled. "That's close to what we think. But like I said, we're not sure. Welcome to Knothole, by the way," he added. "I was asleep when you arrived last night."

Sally pushed open the shutters on her hut, then withdrew back into her hut. "Better get clear, Paul," said Tails. "Aunt Sally gets cranky in the morning, especially when Sonic wakes her up."

Paul frowned for a moment. If Sally was Tails' aunt, he sure didn't see the relation.

Sonic stopped before Sally's hut, as if eager to see the results of his mischief. After a few moments, he checked his watch and tapped his foot.

Sally opened the door.

"Waitwaitwait," said Sonic, catching Sally with her mouth open to speak. "Before you say anything, ask yourself: Don't you have a lot of chores to do today?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What if I do?"

Sonic shrugged innocently, though the smirk never left his face. "I'm just tryin' to help. 'Alarm clock' is just one of the many services I provide."

"Oh? Well, first aid is one of the services Rosie provides."

"I don't need any first aid. I don't even need *third* aid."

"In a moment you will."

"Hey, HEY!"

There was a flurry of motion Paul had trouble following. It ended with Sonic somehow on the roof of one of the huts and Sally looking up at him, both of them breathing heavily.

"If you're so energetic," said Sally crossly, "then grab Rotor. I want you to head back to the clearing where we found Paul and salvage those Swatbots. Don't forget to grab a Power Ring—it should be up soon."

"Wow," said Sonic, "you thought of something fun for me to do! I hope you didn't pull a brain muscle."

"The brain isn't a muscle, Sonic. It's a bundle of nerves."

"You're a bundle of nerves, you mean. Hey, that must be why you're so thin! You're all nerves!"

"Oh, go somewhere!"

"Can do!" He was as good as his word.

Sally sighed, then started counting off on her fingers. Paul guessed she was thinking of the day's chores, just as Sonic had prompted.

She leaned her head into her hut. "Bunnie, you're in the garden today." A muffled sound—coming through layers of sleepiness and possibly a pillow—seemed to acknowledge, so Sally withdrew.

"What about me?" said Paul.

"Oh… well… do whatever you think is best," she answered sheepishly.

"I've got him," said Tails, jumping through the open window of his hut. "I'll show him around."

"Good," said Sally. She looked relieved. "Have fun, Tails."

"We will, Aunt Sally," said Tails.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	3. Chapter 3

"Okay. I was wrong. This isn't fun."

Sonic tapped his foot as he watched Rotor disassemble the Swatbot. He had to break it down into manageable chunks for Sonic to be able to carry it back to the village. "That's a surprise," said Rotor.

"What?"

"You don't usually admit when you're wrong."

"Good point. Okay, maybe I wasn't actually wrong. Maybe this *should* be fun, and it's your fault it isn't."

"I don't know about that, I'm having a blast."

"Really?"

"Sure. I mean, we don't normally get this many high-quality parts in one place."

"I thought that's what we go to the junk heaps for."

"That's not high-quality, that's just better-than-Robotnik-thinks quality. This is the good stuff."

"Like what? We knocked off the bot, so isn't it just trash?"

"Sure, the head is. But look at all this stuff!" He started pointing at various parts of the Swatbot. "Power supplies, servomotors, actuators, plus all the gears and pistons and cases… this thing's a treasure trove!"

Sonic looked at him expectantly.

Rotor sighed. "I'm still not building you an auto-chilidog machine."

"Rats, then what's the point?"

Rotor shrugged. "Hey, hand me that blaster, will you?"

Sonic picked it up. "Here you go," he said, chucking it to Rotor underhand.

Rotor caught it with difficulty and a touch of panic. "Hey, careful with that," he said.

"What for?"

Rotor shook his head. "The power packs in these things are pretty fragile," he said. "You don't want to damage the insulation."

Sonic gave Rotor a blank look. "Say what?"

"You know the river, right?"

"The river."

"Yeah. Say you only wanted the river to flow when you wanted it to. So you put a dam across the river. You still with me?"

"I'm with you."

"That's insulation."

"Puh-lease," said Sonic. "You're telling me there's water in that thing?"

Rotor shook his head. "No, the 'water' in here is electricity. Insulation is the dam."

"Boooring. So why can't I toss around the power pack?"

"Well, if you have a dam in the river, and you poke a hole in it, what happens?"

"The water comes through whether you like it or not." Sonic was tapping his foot now.

"And it starts coming through faster and faster, because the flow makes the hole bigger."

"So if we bust up the power pack, all the energy gets wasted. Big deal."

"Not wasted, converted."

"Converted? Into what?"

"Mostly heat."

"Woah, so this thing'll explode if we don't treat it right?"

"No, not explode."

"Oh, cool."

"Just catch fire."

"Rote, a fire's just a slo-mo explosion."

Rotor chuckled at that. He was about to respond, but turned his head instead. Was that sound…?

Sonic grabbed Rotor's wrist and ran the two of them back into cover. Just in time—a hover unit cleared the treeline as they entered it.

"Where'd they come from?" said Rotor.

"Stupidville, same as always," said Sonic.

"Aww. The Swatbot is still out there!"

Sonic looked out into the clearing. The hover unit was doing a slow circle.

"Let's get out of here," said Rotor. He started to move away, but Sonic grabbed a hold of his shoulder.

"Hey Rote," he said slowly, "would you pull a sprout outta the ground 'fore you know what's growing?"

Rotor blinked. "Uh… no?"

"Then chill a moment," Sonic replied, "and let's see how this goes down."

Sonic watched as the hover unit prepared to come down. Rotor looked back and forth between the clearing and Sonic. Sonic's eyes never left the clearing. Rotor had no idea what he was looking for, and honestly, Sonic probably didn't either. All he had was an ironclad belief that he would know it when he saw it.

Some tacticians learn their craft by study and contemplation. Others can learn by simulation and discussion. Others can learn only from the hardest teacher, experience. A select few, however, simply have a knack for it.

Sonic watched the hover unit. One Swatbot emerged. It turned in place and surveyed the perimeter of the clearing. Despite themselves, Sonic and Rotor shrank back behind their cover when its gaze swept past them.

The Swatbot stepped away from the hover unit. Its partner emerged, and the two of them began to search the clearing.

"Alright," said Sonic, "we got 'em!"

"Huh?" said Rotor.

"The Swatbutts," said Sonic. "There's only two per hover unit, and they're both outside. That means they're stuck as a bug in sap. We got 'em!"

Rotor frowned. "But what are we gonna do to 'em?" he asked.

"Leave it to me."

The Swatbots were in the clearing for the same reason the children were: to salvage the fallen Swatbots. One of them found the corpse Rotor had been working on. It signaled its partner, and the two of them walked away from their hover unit. That was the opening Sonic had been looking for.

"Hey, Swatbutts! Think fast!"

Sonic bolted into the clearing, trailing a rope behind him. The Swatbots saw him late. They pointed blasters at him, but he was already past them. Close in, he could circle them almost faster than they could look around. Sonic did a single loop around the Swatbots, and then raced off in his original direction. The Swatbots figured out where he went, turned to take aim.

Sonic's motion took all slack out of the rope. It tightened suddenly. The loop Sonic had drawn around the Swatbots collapsed. It caught the Swatbots' legs. All four legs were drawn into a space roughly the size of one.

The Swatbots smashed to the ground.

"Ha, still thinking way too slow!" Sonic gloated.

The fall damaged the Swatbots, for when that much weight falls that quickly damage is unavoidable. But it didn't stop them. A blow that would rattle the brain of an organic being was something they could brush off.

That's why Sonic turned back around to finish them off. He ran right at them. The Swatbots lay side-by-side, so only one could even see him as he approached.

He closed, and then leapt. A strange, high-pitched shriek pierced the air—and then Sonic face-planted.

His limbs sprawled out in all direction. He dug a trough in the earth as his momentum carried him forward. Whatever he was trying to do, it hadn't worked.

"Freeze, citizen," said the Swatbot that could see him. It aimed its blaster at him.

Rotor acted just in time. He stepped onto the fallen Swatbots' backs, looped a large golden ring around the barrel of the blaster, and yanked backwards. It pulled the blaster out of alignment for a moment. "Sonic, get the Power Ring!" he shouted.

Unfortunately, the Swatbot was much too strong. It pulled the blaster forward and down. The blaster pulled the ring, and the ring pulled Rotor, with so much force that he tumbled head-over-heels. He landed with an "Oof!" as his breath fled him, and now the blaster was pointed at Rotor.

The moment of distraction was what Sonic needed. He scrambled to his feet, stepped, leapt—and caught a hold of the Power Ring.

Even to the few who knew they existed, Power Rings were a complete mystery. Sonic's uncle had devised them; that was all most people knew. They were able to store large amounts of energy in a small, safe shape. Although they could be used to power machinery, they were designed for Sonic's use.

Sonic was the Fastest Thing Alive without a Power Ring. With one, he was untouchable.

Sonic's momentum carried him across the Swatbots' faces. He planted his feet when he landed and yanked hard on the ring. The Swatbot's blaster was caught between the bot's grip and the ring. The blaster gave way. Its barrel sheared off. Sonic needed to finish both bots before they could recover. He did the quickest possible loop to build up his speed, then came across their faces once again.

He swung down with the ring at the first bot's head.

Power Rings didn't have an edge; they were smooth. However, any object with enough momentum can be destructive. Chips of paint off of one spacecraft can reach velocities that make them fatal to another spacecraft. The object in Sonic's hands wasn't going quite that fast, but it was larger and very, very solid.

It crumpled the Swatbot's dome.

Without wasting a moment Sonic swung his arm around again, achieving a full rotation before he passed the second Swatbot. This bot was trying to leverage itself off the ground. Its head was looking down, still. So instead of striking its head, Sonic went for its neck.

The blow was so ferocious the bot's head nearly came off.

Sonic skidded to a stop. The Ring, which had been glowing fiercely while Sonic tapped into it, faded until it was merely shiny. Sonic padded over to Rotor. "Hey, you okay, big guy?" He offered a hand to help his friend up.

"Yeah," said Rotor with a grimace. He accepted the offered hand and rose. "Doing great."

"Piece of cake, right?"

"Right," said Rotor, "if the cake's full of nails and motor oil."

"Look at it this way," said Sonic, "now we've got *four* Swatbutts to salvage! This went from being a good day to a great day!"

"I don't think I can survive too many more great days," Rotor replied. "Good was good enough for me."

"Let's get rid of this hover crate. Hey, can you crash it where you crashed the other one?"

"Sure, I can do that. By the way, what were you doing back then?"

"Huh?"

Rotor cocked his head at Sonic. "When we were fighting the Swatbots, you ran at 'em, then ran right into the dirt. I've never seen you crash like that."

Sonic's eyes lit up. "I was tryin' to do my new move."

"New move?"

"Remember when we saved Paul? And one o' those bots was chasin' me?"

"Yeah."

"The plan was just for me to run it around a while, then bring it back so you guys could nail it. We got to a creek, though, and I had to turn around. The bot was breathing down my neck the whole way."

"Swatbots don't breathe."

If Sally had said that, Sonic would have felt the need to rise to it, because she always said it in an "I'm smarter than you" tone of voice. When Rotor said it, though, it was non-threatening to Sonic. When Rotor said words like that, they always seemed to apologize for not understanding what you meant.

"Not the point. He was right on my tail, okay? So I did a quick one-eighty, saw the bot point blank, and then…"

"Then?"

"I-I'm not quite sure," said Sonic. "But it was AWESOME!"

Rotor blinked. "I believe you, but I don't get it."

"It was like… like the whole world was revolving around me. It was like there wasn't a thing on the planet that could stop me. It was like a Power Ring feeling without a ring, you know?"

"No, Sonic. Sorry."

"Hey, no prob. I'm still tryin' to figure it out myself."

"So, that's how it felt, but… what actually happened?"

"I cut the Swatbutt in half, that's what."

Rotor frowned. "What, just like that?"

"Just like that."

"How?"

"Rote, if I knew for sure, I'd'a done it today. But Rote, if I've ever called something cool before, this was past cool."

"Past cool?"

"Nah, not just past cool. WAY past cool."

Rotor looked at Sonic for a moment. Sonic always seemed a bit larger than life. Right now, while both of them were still high on adrenaline, with the sparking corpses of two Swatbots close by, and Sonic talking with such enthusiasm about how he could do even *better*…

_I can't believe he calls me his friend._

When most people encounter someone more skilled or successful or popular than themselves, they don't have to live with that person. Their reaction to that person fades with time and distance. Sometimes the reaction is one of awe that lives in memory and becomes more spectacular with every telling. Sometimes a person is threatened by such a display, and becomes envious or jealous or spiteful.

Not Rotor.

Here was Sonic. He was full of energy and life, so bright that even in the sunlight of the clearing everything around him seemed duller by comparison. He belonged. He fit his role so naturally it was as if the world had been created just so he could fill it. Rotor knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he would never shine that bright. He would never have what Sonic had. It was Sonic's world; he just lived in it.

He was okay with that.

Sonic couldn't do everything. There were some things he was downright bad at. There were talents and abilities Rotor had that the children needed. So long as he could provide those, so long as he could be the indispensable guy he was, he didn't need glory. Sonic could have it. Rotor would know—and he would know Sonic knew—that Rotor was part of it, too, in his own way.

And even if that didn't work out, if Sonic called him friend, maybe it would be okay after all. Being Sonic's friend was good enough.

Sonic glanced at his watch. "Woah, speaking of way past, we're way past *late*! What's next, Rote?"

Rotor shook himself back to the present. "Uh… next you have to wait while I get more disassembly done."

Sonic's shoulders slumped. "I have to wait? And we had such a good day going…"

* * *

><p>"Seventeen… eighteen… nineteen… twenty," said Tails.<p>

"Twenty?" said Sally with a frown.

"Yep!" chirped Tails. "Twenty!"

"Alright, thanks, sweetie," she said. "You can come down now."

Tails had been inspecting the top row of a shelf. Now he allowed himself to slowly lose altitude. He was hovering by quickly spinning his two tails. It didn't seem like it should work, but then Sonic was the one who'd taught him how to do it, and nothing Sonic did seemed like it should work, even when it did. He dropped gently onto the ground. "Any more?" he said, panting more than he meant to allow.

It didn't escape Sally's notice. "No, we're done," she said. "Thanks for everything."

"It's nothing," he said. "Why were we doing that, anyway?"

"Just trying to keep track of our food stores, honey," said Sally in a distracted tone of voice. She had a clipboard and a pencil in her hands. Her facial expression implied that the numbers were playing some kind of trick on her.

Tails thought about this. "You mean for all the things we don't grow ourselves?"

"That's right," Sally answered.

"Like chili?"

Sally smiled thinly. "Well, some of that we make ourselves. But late in winter, when we've run out of what we've grown, yes, we have to dig into our stores."

"But where did it all come from?" asked Tails.

"Well," said Sally, "I guess you have to go back to why this place was made. When Uncle Chuck designed this place…"

"Sonic's Uncle Chuck?" said Tails excitedly.

"Yes, _that_ Uncle Chuck," she said. "When he designed this place, it was supposed to be a royal retreat. A place where my family could go and relax and get away from it all. Well, you're not really getting away from it all when you've got people coming in and out every day or two with food! So he designed these large cellars as part of it, filled with canned and dried food."

"This is way more food than your family would need," Tails pointed out.

"Well," she answered, "that's because the Royal family never travels alone. Tradition says that you bring along a bunch of other people—cooks and maids and servants and all."

"Oh." Tails squinted, trying to imagine what all those people would do. Then he tried to imagine what the Royal family would do with its time if it had all those people to do things for it.

"Of course, if it were me, I wouldn't be that traditional. I would just bring along my friends, and the families of my friends. Then again, I think Uncle Chuck sort of planned with that in mind. They are awfully big cellars."

"But they'll run out eventually, right, Aunt Sally?"

"Eventually?" she said curiously. "Where'd you learn that word?"

"Oh, you know." Giggles.

"Well, yes, they'll run out. In fact, they would have run out a long time ago if we hadn't restocked them."

"Huh?"

"Mobotropolis had a really large population," she explained. "Lots of people lived there. So they had many stores to sell food. The Swatbots don't eat it, so it just sat there."

"So you went out and took that food?"

"We sure did. We've had missions in the past just to get food, as much as we could carry. Most of it was rotten or spoiled, of course. Whatever was well-preserved, we took."

"Wow, I can't wait!"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," she said. "There's no reason for you to go to the city just yet."

"But if it's just carrying food, how bad could it be?"

"It's still in Robotropolis, sweetie," she said. "So it's still really dangerous."

"But you go!"

"Right, but we're really careful."

"Sonic says it's no big deal. He says it's easy. He says…"

Sally shook her head. "Sonic… likes to say those things to make you laugh. He's a big teaser."

Tails giggled. "What?" asked Sally.

"He said you'd say that."

Sally frowned. "Oh really?"

"Yeah! And he…" Tails giggled. "He said that if you said that, he had a message for you."

The frown deepened. "What message?"

Tails was giggling so much he could hardly contain himself. He got a hold of himself, straightened up... and put his thumb to his snout, waved his fingers in the air, stuck out his tongue, and blew a raspberry.

Sally's mouth dropped open. Then she clenched her jaw tightly shut. "Come on, dear," she said. "We're done in the cellars for now."

They heard the sound of Sonic's approach as they returned above-ground. "Oh, just in time," Sally said. A note of menace hung in her voice. She made a bee-line for the bottom of the slide. Next to the hay was a pile of Swatbot parts—the fruits of the salvage mission. Sally glanced at it and, if anything, her eyes narrowed further.

Sonic emerged from the slide and hit the hay. He pulled himself out and found himself staring at Sally. "Oh, hey Sal," he said nonchalantly. Too nonchalantly. He'd seen her face.

"Good morning, Sonic," she said acidly.

"What's cookin'?" he asked.

"Was it a good salvage trip?" she asked in the same harsh tone of voice.

"Uh… yeah," said Sonic, too off-footed to be clever. "Good as… uh…"

"It was *so* good," she said, "that you've managed to do the impossible."

"Impossible is just what I do," said Sonic. He wasn't sure where this was going but knew it would be unpleasant.

"I was just looking at the four Swatbot arms in the pile," she said.

"Yeah, they've got two each, last I checked," Sonic answered.

"The four _right_ arms in the pile," she amended.

Sonic said nothing.

"You went to Robotropolis, didn't you?" she accused.

"Hey, no way, no how," he said with a shake of his head. "They came to us, okay?"

"Oh? They just came to you and shut down? They just took themselves apart for you?"

"Sal, it was a perfect setup. They were alone, they were away from their hover unit so they couldn't escape…"

"Escape? Escape! Like I'm worried about them escaping!"

"Hey," called Rotor from the top of the slide, "are you ready, Sonic? I've got some more parts to send down!"

"Sure, Rote—"

"He's busy!"

The two children stared at each other, neither backing down. Rotor decided he didn't want to be involved with it. "I'll just… uh… yeah."

"I had a Ring, I had surprise, I had Rotor," Sonic said. "You aren't gonna find better chances than that!"

"We didn't need it," she replied. "It accomplished nothing and put both of you in real danger!"

"It wasn't that bad," Sonic shot back. "Not any more dangerous than goin' to Robo-town is anyway, and we do that all the time."

"Oh, I know all about your opinion of 'Robo-town'," she said darkly.

"Oh yeah?"

"Does this ring a bell?" And she copied the gesture Tails had shown her.

Sonic winced. "Now hold on, Sal…"

"I will NOT hold on," she said. "It's bad enough that you take risks yourself, bad enough when you endanger the rest of us. But when you tell Tails tales, when you make him think it's all a big joke… I won't stand for it!"

"Yeah? Whatcha gonna do about it?" said Sonic. He'd been off-balance before, but he'd gathered his wits, and was meeting anger with anger. "Keep me from talking to him? Good luck with that!"

"No, but you have to change how you talk to him!"

"I ain't changin' how I talk!" he shouted back. "I don't change my speed, and I don't change my 'tude. That's what I am!"

"Well, figure something out. Because you're giving Tails totally the wrong message!"

"I just call a spade a spade, Sal."

"Wrong, you're calling a rake a spade! Your judgment today shows you don't know how dangerous it is! I mean, ambushing two Swatbots with no backup, no plan…"

"For what it's worth, I thought it was a smart move."

The children stopped cold and looked over. Paul was standing nearby.

"Surprise is a force multiplier," Paul continued. "The Swatbots were alone and couldn't get backup. And now we have twice as much salvage material as before. Looks like it worked to me."

"Well, he… he shouldn't have acted alone like that," said Sally. She looked like someone who couldn't find where the floor had gone.

Sonic had his mouth open to respond, but Paul spoke first. "It's not like there was time to get help," he said. "The opportunity was there, for that moment only. It's important to seize chances as they appear."

"Oh," said Sally softly.

Silence descended for a moment. Rotor looked down below again. "Hey… can I start sending this stuff down?"

No one said anything for a moment. "Sure," said Paul. "I'll help with it."

Everyone remained still. "Sal!" hissed Sonic.

"Right," she said. She still looked concussed somehow. "Uh... that'll be fine, Paul. Take it to the third hut on the right."

Sonic looked from Sally to Paul and back again. His anger seemed undiminished. "I'll get the rest of it," he said, and was gone.

None of them knew quite what had happened. Still, it was apparent to all—strange things were afoot in Knothole.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	4. Chapter 4

"Snively, this is the second time in two days that a hover unit has crashed into the hangar."

"Yes, sir. Very observant."

Tricky words, those. With a certain tone of voice, they sounded sycophantic and spineless. With another, they were snide and rebellious. It was a fine line, and one Snively walked every day.

Snively turned away from the massive bank of monitors and terminals to face his master. As he did daily, he contemplated how far he could push his luck. It depended so much on Robotnik's mood. After seven years of close contact with the only other person around the city, he was attuned to Robotnik's moods as a weathervane is to the wind.

Not that there were a lot of moods to attune to. Robotnik cycled mostly between malicious delight and unbound anger. He didn't get depressed, sad, or silly, nor did he have a 'neutral' mood. Having so much power, and no fellow people besides Snively to interact with, was definitely affecting his behavior.

And Robotnik did have power, yes. Legions of Swatbots obeyed his commands. His rule extended to every city and town on the planet; only the best-hidden villages eluded him. He controlled the all-powerful Roboticiser. A trip through that, and even the most rebellious person was rendered a loyal slave. Almost the entire population of the world was under his thrall.

He was making it abundantly clear that until the "almost" was removed from that statement he would never be happy for long.

Snively wondered at times what it would be like to have that power. He could pretend to have it himself. He ran all the day-to-day aspects of the city and, to a lesser extent, the empire. When Robotnik was sleeping, sometimes Snively would even sit in his chair. There was a lot of satisfaction to be had in the efficient running of such a large domain, but the tastes of power were proving addictive.

Nothing kills a feeling of power like fear. Snively had fear to spare.

When it came right down to it, Snively was completely at Robotnik's mercy. At a whim, Robotnik could beat him, kill him, or have him roboticized. Snively had no authority greater than what Robotnik possessed. He wasn't exactly a physical specimen, either. He was short for a human, about the same size as most Mobians. His skin was so pale it was nearly translucent. His nose was the size and shape of a carrot. Only wisps of hair remained where once thick, wavy locks had been. Snively had lost his hair in a single, traumatic moment, and really had never recovered. He was prone to panic attacks, flop sweating, and losing his head in a crisis. For all his flaws, he was a very efficient administrator. His ability to manage Robotnik's empire was, quite literally, irreplaceable. So he survived.

So, rather, Robotnik let him survive. The power arrangement was very clear. That's why any form of rebellion out of Snively was dangerous.

But he couldn't help himself. He didn't want to be a slave. He and Robotnik had been partners, once, equals, and he resented being reduced like this. Robotnik treated him like dirt. Snively, despite his name, still had shreds of pride left. That's why, even though it was unhealthy to irk Robotnik, Snively couldn't stop himself. If he couldn't do that, he might as well just Roboticize himself and get it over with.

"And its memory? Have the Swatbots recovered the hover unit's black box yet?"

"They're still salvaging, sir," Snively replied. This turn of events was sure to make Robotnik grouchy. Again. He'd best play it safe for now.

Grouchy was a good look for Robotnik. It suited him. It might have been hard to take him seriously otherwise. Robotnik was morbidly obese. Combined with his bald, cone-shaped head, it made him look like a large egg with limbs. His legs were puny and rested in ostentatious boots that provided more style than function. His sense of style also informed the ridiculous-looking red, yellow, and black spandex he wore as a uniform, complete with useless yellow cape. He sported a mustache that looked like it should migrate for the winter. His left arm was robotic, a casualty of a Roboticiser accident from years ago.

Despite his appearance, Robotnik was plenty dangerous. The proof is simply this: no one on Mobius was able to mock him for how ridiculous he looked. Sonic did on rare occasions, but only before fleeing at terrific speed.

Underneath all the absurd uniforms and physical weaknesses, there was a sphinx's honesty, a spider's mercy, and a child's cruelty. His mind was powerful and devious. His soul was black as a shark's eye.

For now he sat in his command chair at a low angle. His mismatched hands were crossed in front of his face; his elbows were propped up on his enormous gut. His eyes—black with red pupils—were narrowed in menacing fashion.

"I expect a certain amount of trouble," Robotnik said, "but two hover units sabotaged in two days? I won't tolerate it. Hm… back-calculate the hover unit's trajectory. Let's find out where it came from."

"Yes, sir," Snively replied. He placed a map of Robotropolis on the monitors, centered on the HQ. The monitors were huge—Snively was a little over a meter tall, and at least ten of him would have fit across the diagonal. It was yet another expression of Robotnik's penchant for excess. Deftly Snively drew a small line into the hangar based on the way the unit crashed. Then he drew a larger line going the opposite direction. "This way, sir," he said. "Assuming the unit didn't maneuver, it came from somewhere along this line."

Robotnik growled. "If it came from somewhere inside the city... possible, I suppose… zoom out."

"Yes, sir."

"Again."

Pause.

"Again."

The map encompassed all of Robotropolis out to the edges of the trash heaps.

Robotnik shook his head. "No, Snively. I don't see where the unit could have come from."

"What do you mean, sir?"

Robotnik sighed. "You're a moron, Snively. Do you think that random criminals could have hijacked a hover unit as it was flying? No. They would need to find a place where hover units were already on the ground."

"Of course, sir." Snively bridled at the jibe. A touch more sarcasm tinged his voice.

"Unless they could cause it to land," Robotnik continued on, mostly to himself. Solitude had caused him to lose the power of internal monologue. "But if something made it land, the crew should have initiated an alarm… Snively, zoom out."

Now the picture included the fallow lands and the first part of the forest. "Pan along the line," Robotnik commanded. Snively did, though he wondered why. There was nothing to see—just kilometer after kilometer of trees.

Robotnik seemed to sense the futility of it as well. He said nothing as the image updated into the deepest woods.

The line ended. Snively stopped panning. "Why did you stop?" Robotnik shouted.

"Hover units don't have enough fuel to fly further than that, sir, unless they're specially prepared."

Robotnik didn't congratulate Snively for remembering that detail, or even acknowledge him. He just gave a low growl at being thwarted. Snively's resentment grew again. _No, need to keep control, it isn't safe…_

"Is it possible, sir, that… the village with the princess and the hedgehog is along this line?"

"Of course not, you idiot," said Robotnik. "Not everyone is as stupid as you. They've eluded me for seven years. They wouldn't give away their position so easily. No, they're not stupid."

"Unlike you, sir," mumbled Snively. He realized, too late, that he hadn't kept the comment to himself. He looked to Robotnik in panic. Robotnik seemed not to notice. He was preoccupied with the problem at hand. Snively took a deep breath of relief. That had been too close. The resentment in Snively's heart had fled when the fear kicked in. He would play the game a bit more. For now.

"We *will* get to the bottom of this, Snively," said Robotnik. "Mark my words."

Snively sighed. That's what he was afraid of. More time working with Robotnik. "Yes, sir," he said tiredly. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>"…I joined right at the tail-end of the Great War. I saw a little action during the mop-up. We were supporting the main force of Swatbots, you see."<p>

Paul sat in the main hall of Knothole. All the children were there. Where they sat said a lot. Antoine and Tails, for example, were sitting right in front of Paul and hung on his every word. Rotor sat furthest away and tinkered with pieces from the morning's salvage. He wore a scowl, even though the parts were giving him no trouble.

Rosie was close-by in the kitchen, making lunch. She was out of sight, but not out of mind.

There were still many things to do in the day, but they always took a break around lunchtime, both to eat and to escape the midday heat. For children covered in fur, even Knothole's natural protection from sunlight and the occasional breeze didn't cool things off too much. The prevailing winds blew from the forest out to sea. This prevented the sea from moderating the temperature of the forest, but it also protected the forest from the worst part of Robotropolis' fumes.

The children didn't think in those terms. All they knew was that when it got too hot, there was no point in working outdoors. In years past they would often go to the river and play in it. The last year or two had put a stop to that. Hormones were kicking in. Seeing a friend with their fur molded to their body meant something different now than it once had. It was too awkward. Now they went singly or not at all.

"I learned a lot about myself in boot camp. Long days, people yelling at you every minute, telling you that you need to do better. Telling you that everyone around you's depending on you, and you're not measuring up. Lots of stress. Lots of physical training. I lost ten percent of my body weight, then gained it back in muscle."

"Wow! You must be super-strong, then!" said Tails excitedly.

"I'm not working out now like I did then," Paul said abashedly. "Back then I didn't have anything else to do, and I didn't have much choice."

"You mean you're not as strong now?"

"If you don't keep up with it, strength goes away. I bet if Sonic didn't run around all the time he'd lose his speed."

"Yeah, the day I die," Sonic laughed.

"Maybe. The point is, I may not have the muscle mass I had during training, but I remember lots. We did all sorts of things in training, and some of them I've had to do since then."

"Liking what?" asked Antoine.

"I can field-strip, clean, and reassemble a blaster. I had the fastest time in my squad. I know hand signals so a squad can fight no matter how much noise there is. I know how to pilot small and medium hovercraft."

He had their full attention now. Even Rotor had paused, a tool in his hand motionless above a component.

"I was a communications specialist, so I went to an extra school for that. In fact… your name's Rotor, right?"

Rotor nodded grudgingly.

"I have something you might find really interesting. If I could get some help getting back to my hideout, I could bring it back for you."

"Why stop there?" said Bunnie. "You ain't goin' back, right? You're stayin' with us. So bring it all."

Some of the others stirred. They hadn't said anything, but she felt their resistance. "Knothole's his home, ain't it?" she challenged. She looked around at them. None matched her. "Ain't it, Sally-girl?"

"We can do that if you'd like, Paul," Sally said.

"Sure, that sounds swell," he said. "We won't need to bring everything, just a couple things that might be useful here."

"Awesome, I get outta afternoon chores!" said Sonic. The others groaned; Sonic and Tails laughed. Sonic's face was merry, indeed—except the eyes. There was something hidden, hard, and angry in his eyes. The others missed it. Only Sally seemed to notice. She gave Sonic a wondering look. He turned away from her.

"Let's get a blindfold on Paul," said Sally.

"We're outta here," said Sonic. "Hey, this time we'll try rootin'!"

"And how fast is thaAAAT!"

Rotor went back to playing with the component and sighed happily as he did. "Ah, it never gets old."

* * *

><p>"Run through it again," said Robotnik.<p>

"Yes, sir. The second hover unit crashed into the hangar. This was because it was ordered to fly without any landing protocols—it was deliberately crashed."

"Why?"

"Hijacked, sir. No Swatbot parts were found in the wreckage, so its crew was not aboard."

"Where was it hijacked?"

"The black box was destroyed, but we know the unit was somewhere along this line of bearing."

"Doing what?"

"Salvaging another hover unit crew."

"How do we know this?"

"We recovered the serial number from the hover unit and determined which command node had control of it. We then sifted through its record of orders to find the last one given to that unit."

They'd been at this for hours now. They were tracking effect back to cause, moving link-by-link back through the causal chain, hoping to find the first mover. It was tedious work.

"Why did that command node issue the salvage order?"

"Hover unit 10104 was reported destroyed."

"When was it reported destroyed?"

"Last night… when it crashed into the HQ hangar."

The biggest problem wasn't that there was too little data. It was that there was too much data for any of it to be easy to find. The Swatbots, worker bots, and techbots of the city compiled an overwhelming amount of information on a day-to-day basis. That information could be useful if you could only find it.

"So the hover unit was reported destroyed, and the command node determined its crew was not aboard?"

"Yes, sir, the same way we did—no Swatbot parts in the wreckage."

For example, each hover unit was obliged to report when it deviated from its patrol route. The command nodes kept records of those reports so that they could dispatch reinforcements if required. It annotated the records depending on if the hover unit reported back to close out the case or if too much time went by. It did not record other details—those were kept only by the individual Swatbots involved.

Sometimes the command nodes issued orders to the hover units to deviate. But you couldn't tell, looking at the list of deviations, which ones were ordered. That list was kept separately. Snively had had to write a special script for this investigation to cross-reference the two lists.

He would have to hold on to that one… if he could find where he put it.

"Where was the first hover unit hijacked?"

"Unknown, sir, but its trajectory was the same as the other unit's."

It was all about knowing the right question to ask. That's what Snively and Robotnik were doing now: reviewing their questions and their answers thus far. They'd covered the early ground several times already, so it went quickly. Near the end, the thread was not so clear.

"So the second hover unit followed the same track backwards. Did it report what it found?"

"No sir. Possibly it was out of range."

"Or it was hijacked the moment it touched down."

"Yes, sir."

"Out of range makes more sense, since anything that causes a hover unit to touch down inside the city should have triggered an alert. But enough about the second hover unit. What about the first?"

"It reported deviation last night. It didn't report in again after that."

"Why not?"

Snively hesitated. "Sir, I think that may be unanswerable."

He braced himself, waiting for the explosion… but Robotnik simply growled. "Then it, too, was either out of range, or hijacked immediately."

"Or both, sir."

"But what was the reason for deviation?"

"It wasn't ordered by the control node, sir."

"Then we have to track down either the individual Swatbot who answered the deviation, or the corpse of the Swatbot that deviated."

Snively looked at Robotnik. For once they agreed—neither one of them wanted to track down individual Swatbots.

"Snively, there may be another way. Bring up the hover unit's patrol pattern. Determine where it was when it deviated. At least those entries are time-stamped."

Snively complied. The route appeared on the monitor. Snively placed a marker on the route for where the hover unit was, then backtracked it a bit to account for an earlier deviation. _Please don't make me interrogate that one,_ Snively pleaded. _This is making my head hurt._

"Here, sir," he said.

"Now bring up the list of alerts for that sub-sector. Find if there was something it might have responded to."

Snively had to hand it to Robotnik. It was a shot in the dark, but this just might work. It took several minutes, but he found the right database, and the right entry in that database. "Here, sir," he said. "There was an intruder alert at the guard station in sector six, sub-sector three."

"What for?"

"Automatic alert, sir. Heat sensor. When it alarmed the intruder fled."

"Interesting." Robotnik leaned forward, his hands crossed in front of his face. "In that case… we won't have evidence for the rest of it."

"No, sir. The rest of the information is held by the Swatbots onboard."

"Which are dead."

"Yes, sir."

"So the hover unit responds to an alert, chases an intruder, but when it lands, is ambushed and hijacked. The criminals send the hover unit back to crash. The command node's salvage subroutine sends a second hover unit to search for the first. It goes… probably to the same location. With the same result. And that means… Snively, cancel that subroutine! Or it'll continue sending hover units along that line until it has none left to send."

"Yes, sir."

"That's just the immediate fix," Robotnik rumbled along. "There's more to do. I don't care if it's difficult, I will not abide criminals trespassing in my city."

"Of course not, sir." Robotnik was getting worked up, which was rarely useful for Snively. _There's no point speaking when he gets like this, just agree and move on…_

"It's taken me years to put this world into good order, and still there's resistance everywhere, from the Southern Continent to the lands of our old enemies. If I'm to rule this world, I can't abide these fools close to home."

_Oh, there are fools close to home, all right,_ Snively thought. He restrained his words to, "Yes, sir."

"Change the patrol patterns of the hover units in that sector," said Robotnik.

"What? Oh, of course, sir."

"But that's only a short-term solution," Robotnik continued to himself. "No, something more is needed… something new…"

Snively glanced back. He could almost see the wheels turning in Robotnik's head. He was greatly relieved. It meant he wouldn't have to deal with him for a while.

He idly wondered what his boss was imagining. It didn't last long. Imagination was not his strong suit—not, at least, when there was so much to do. _Robotnik may glibly say he wants patrol routes to change, but he doesn't appreciate how much work that is! It means altering allocations of Swatbots and hover units, changing the routes of the surrounding areas to minimize overlap and maximize coverage, not to mention the cascading second-order changes on maintenance schedules, spare parts usage, depot availability…_

Snively dove headfirst into the details of his orders while Robotnik ascended into the realm of creativity. All around them, the empire chugged along like the machine it was.

* * *

><p>Dawn came to Knothole.<p>

Noisily… for a moment.

Words are a poor substitute for sounds, but the sounds went a bit like this:

ZoooooooomWHAMsilence.

And then,

"Rotor!"

And riotous laughter.

Sonic drummed his fingers against the ground. He was covered in dirt, most of it kicked up when he hit the deck. His right foot was glued down. He was less than happy about it. He pulled hard with his right leg. His foot came off the ground a bit, but some sort of gooey, stringy substance pulled back. Sonic had to give up. His foot sprung back to where it had been.

He heard the laughter coming from the closest hut and waited what he thought was a decent amount of time. It didn't seem like it was dying down. "Rotor!" he shouted again.

His "friends"— he even thought the word in quotation marks—stumbled out, laughing themselves silly. Rotor manage to gasp out, "Wh—what?"

"You mind explainin' what's goin' on here? You're crampin' my style!"

Antoine, Bunnie, and Sally kept laughing. Rotor managed to contain himself to sniffles. "What—what makes you think I had anything to do with it?"

Sonic rolled his eyes. "I donno—lucky guess?"

"Sugar-hog, you look pitiful," Bunnie gasped between laughs.

"Pitifully *hilarious*," Sally corrected.

"Oh yeah, yuck it up," Sonic said. "Never mind I almost broke my ribs, snapped my leg, *and* tore my shoe. Hey, no biggie."

"At least we know what's important," Sally said. "Shoes are priority one."

"I smacked my head pretty good, too."

"So what? Not like you were using it for anything."

Sonic sighed. "Oh suuuure, everyone pick on the guy who can't move."

"Don't pretend y'all didn't deserve this," said Bunnie.

"Yeah, whatever. Look, Rote, this was all you, right? So are you gonna let me go or what?"

"It wasn't *all* me."

"That ain't the point, fish-breath! Get me outta here!"

"'Fish-breath'?" Rotor repeated. He turned to Sally with a grin. "Can we leave him here a while? I think he needs to cool down."

"I'm already the coolest thing on Mobius, how much cooler do I need to get?" Sonic's fingers were hitting the ground so hard small puffs of dirt were kicked up with each impact.

"Sorry, Rotor," said Sally, "but we'll let him up."

"Cool!"

"But first…"

"Oh no, Sal, quit while you're ahead."

"…I think you need to show everyone you've learned your lesson."

Sonic's fingers stilled. "What lesson?"

Sally just crossed her arms and smiled.

"Sal, I got no idea what you're talking about."

"I bet y'all doooo," said Bunnie.

Sonic clenched his jaw. "What lesson?" he said again.

"We can leave you here if we want," said Sally. Triumph was written on her face.

"You guys can't leave until I can!"

"Then SAY IT!"

Sonic drew back, then sighed. "Alright, alright. I won't wake people up in the morning."

Sally nodded. "Fair's fair. Let him go, Rotor."

Rotor waddled towards where Sonic was stuck. He was digging into his bandolier.

"What is this stuff?" asked Sonic.

"I've been calling it mega-muck," Rotor answered. "Beats me what's in it. I've been seeing more and more of it lately, right outside the trash heaps. Last time we were there I saw some, so I got it inside a jar."

"It's stickier than a frog's tongue."

"Yeah, it sticks to pretty much everything. The only way I got it in the jar was by scooping up the dirt beneath it."

"I hope Robuttnik never finds out how to make it on purpose. So how do I get outta this?"

"Pull your foot up enough that I can reach the bottom of your shoe." Sonic complied. Rotor poured the contents of a vial onto the shoe's surface. The mega-muck released its hold with a schlurp sound.

"What is that stuff?"

"Remember when I explained insulation?"

"Yeah."

"Remember how it made your head hurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Chemistry is worse."

"Forget I asked. How'd you know it would work?"

"I was just messing around with anything, really. I tried all sorts of stuff, and this worked."

Sonic popped to his feet. "Alright! Nothing's better than bein' on your own two feet! Juice time!" He peeled out, kicking up more dust than was strictly necessary.

Tails poked his head out from his hut and called, "You can't keep a good 'hog down!"

Sally sighed, though remnants of her smile remained. "Think it'll work?"

"So what if it doesn't?" said Bunnie. "I haven't laughed that hard in ages."

"Neither have I," Sally admitted, "but I still want him to stop. By the way, this was a great idea, Rotor."

"Ho ho," said Antoine, "but ze idea was not being his."

"What?"

"He's right, Sally," Rotor said sheepishly. "I didn't come up with it. The plan was all Antoine."

Sally and Bunnie gaped at Antoine, who was looking exceedingly pleased with himself. "I know it is not polite to be boasting, howevair, zis plan was as clever as cleverness."

"It really was," Sally said. The expression on her face made clear she was expecting, at any moment, for Rotor or Antoine to shout "Just kidding!"

"H-he saw me messing with the mega-muck the other day," Rotor continued, "and he was wondering what it was. When I explained it, well, the plan just came to him."

"Well, don't that just beat all," Bunnie said.

Sonic zoomed in on the group. "Waitaminute," he said. "Did I hear that right? I got punked by _Antoine_?"

Antoine had been looking forward to this. He leaned forward with smug satisfaction. "With certainment, fyu-el!"

"No way!" said Sonic with genuine dismay. "Hold on a sec, I gotta check to make sure the sky's blue."

He dashed away, leaving the other children in his vortex again. "How did he hear that while he was runnin'?" wondered Bunnie. "It ain't fair."

Sonic skidded back into the group, showering Antoine with dirt in the process. "Alright, sky's still blue, so we're safe for now. But be on the lookout for flying pigs, snowballs, blue moons, and other weird stuff."

Antoine frowned as he brushed dirt off of himself. "You are talking as if zis ees much impossible," he grumbled. "What ees so strange about eet?"

"He's just upset because he's used to bein' the pranker, not the prankee," Bunnie explained.

"Oh, I'm not upset," said Sonic. "It's cool. I already got planned on how I'm gonna get back at him."

"You? Plan?" said Sally.

"It's been known to happen."

"Riiiight. Alright, everyone, show's over, it's time for morning chores."

They moaned, but complied all the same. They split off into separate directions. Sally flagged down Rotor. "Rotor, what was it that Paul gave you?"

"It's actually pretty neat, Sally. It's a comm scanner. I'll tell you about it once we get it working."

"Fair enough. Where's Paul now?"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he hollered from his hut.

"You missed the best part of the morning," Sally called to him.

"My loss. Give me a moment."

"I'll be heading over to the garden," said Rotor hurriedly.

"Rotor," whispered Sally, "I can see you don't like Paul much, but we can still be polite."

"I've been polite," Rotor mumbled.

"You run away from him all the time."

"I'm trying to stay polite."

"You're as bad as Sonic sometimes," she said.

That got his attention. His head snapped up. "It's not that I don't like Paul," he said. "It's just… never mind," he said, as Paul exited his hut. "You'd better talk to him."

Sally turned to Paul. Because he was in such a hurry to get away, Rotor missed something unusual about Sally: when she approached Paul, it was tentatively, hesitantly.

"Mr. Paul," she said, "I—that is, we- have put something together. Over the past few years, I mean. Uh… I want to know what you think about it."

"Sure, I'll look at anything you have to show me," he said.

Relief swept over Sally—though what she was nervous about she didn't quite know. "This way," she said. "It's in the main hall."

"I've never seen anything like this," Paul said shortly afterwards.

The children had retrieved several old maps of Mobotropolis. Over days and weeks and months, they'd annotated the maps heavily. Here and there, whole blocks were marked through, and neat handwriting—usually either Bunnie's or Sally's—described what had been built there. A couple of areas were crossed off as no-go zones. Where buildings remained but had been repurposed, that, too, was noted. Everywhere were icons and marks written in a shorthand the children had devised for themselves.

"You put an awful lot of work into this," Paul said appreciatively.

"I won't pretend it was easy," Sally said. "Finding the maps was a challenge in itself. I don't know if we could find another complete set anywhere."

Paul nodded. He didn't need it explained to him. Civilized people sometimes take for granted how much they use that they don't produce themselves. Robotnik's coup had provided a stern reminder on that point. Those who were still alive and free understood it completely. Knothole, while a wonderful place to live, was a far cry from an industrial park. Anything the forest couldn't give them, the children had to scavenge or steal from Robotropolis. Even the pencils the children used to mark up the map were a precious resource.

"This is unbelievably comprehensive," Paul said. "Down to the smallest details you could remember… are those marks for fixed cameras?"

"And those are sewer entrances," Sally said, pointing.

"You must all have gone to Robotropolis a lot to gather this much information."

"More than I care to think about, honestly."

If Paul's respect for the children hadn't been high already, it would have risen. He decided not to mention how rarely he went to the city himself. "Have you done anything with this intel?"

Sally blushed. "Not really," she said softly.

"When were you planning to?"

There it was. The same sort of question Sonic always challenged her with. "When are we gonna"-fill-in-the-blank. Except that Sally could brush off nine-tenths of what Sonic said without letting it touch her memory. Coming from Paul, on the other hand, it was a mildly spoken but powerful condemnation.

She had no defense.

"I've gotta say," Paul continued, seemingly unaware of the abyss into which Sally was falling, "all this data will make mission planning a breeze."

"Will it?" said Sally.

"Sure."

"Then would you help?"

Paul looked up at her. The expression on her face made plain the answer she needed. "No problem," he said.

"Oh good," Sally said.

"When do you want to start?"

Sally looked up, as if the schedule was on the ceiling rather than in her mind. "Tomorrow afternoon?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	5. Chapter 5

Paul left the main hall. He was still trying to figure his way around the village. Did he go left to get back to his hut? Or was it right?

He reached the end of a row and realized it must be the other way. On a whim, he walked behind the huts rather than in front of them. He was still struggling to appreciate how cunningly the village was hidden. From the air, it would be totally invisible, yet there was cleared room for half a dozen huts and space to build more if needed.

He heard a voice coming from just beyond the start of the undergrowth. Paul frowned. He'd thought everyone was at morning chores. Not that it was any of his business, either way… or was it? He lived here now, didn't he? And that other adult, Rosie, was obviously not in control of the children in any way…

The voice he heard was Antoine's. He was reading aloud in French—and then repeating the phrase in his mangled Mobian. Paul frowned in confusion. No way to know but to ask. He looked over a bush. Antoine was squatting and reading out of a book, totally engrossed in what he was doing. After a few moments he seemed to sense he was being watched, and he noticed Paul. He yelped and stood. He tucked the book behind him as if it were contraband. "Monsieur P-p-paul, what a s-s-surprise," he said.

"What were you doing?" Paul asked.

"Doing? I was… ahem, zat is… practicing."

"Practicing what?"

Antoine sighed. "Can you be keeping a secret? Soldier-to-soldier?"

Paul laughed at the notion, but the sincerity on Antoine's face killed the humor. "Soldier-to-soldier?"

"I am realizing I no 'ave rank, I no 'ave enlisted, and yet… eet ees what I am trying to be," said Antoine through a flush of embarrassment. "So. Soldier-to-soldier?"

Paul nodded. "Soldier-to-soldier. So report!"

Antoine leaned in to keep the conversation quiet. "'Ow much are you knowing of linguistics, Monsieur?"

Paul blinked hard. "And how do you know how to pronounce 'linguistics'?"

"Er… well, I am actually better at Mobian than I let on. I suppose the cat's out of jail now."

The pronunciation, grammar, and use of idiom were spot-on. There was an overtone of accent that would never be eradicated, but it sounded as if he'd been speaking Mobian his whole life—which, of course, he had been.

"You force the accent," said Paul, surprise in his voice. "I thought you just… hadn't learned."

"You can't 'not learn'. You can't even refuse to learn. The most important part of how you talk is how your childhood friends talk," said Antoine. "So science says. All my friends speak Mobian. If I hadn't done something, I'd have forgotten everything. I'd talk like them. I started practicing years ago. It's all I can do to hang on, to remember enough to read and think in French. Don't ask me how Bunnie keeps her accent. I have to work really hard at it."

"But… why? I can't see how it does anything but give you grief."

Antoine gave him a stern look. "Monsieur, I have some pride. My father was a great man. My father was a soldier, head of the Royal Guard. I will do everything I can to honor his memory. That means speaking the language of my father."

"It also means getting made fun of."

"Like I care!" Antoine said fiercely. "That just proves I'm doing the right thing! Besides, someone has to carry on our culture. If I don't, there's literally no one else."

Paul nodded slowly. "Antoine," he said, "what if you were able to honor your father another way? What if you could honor him by being a better soldier?"

"I would like that very much," Antoine replied.

"I can help you there," Paul said. "I can train you."

Antoine's face lit up. "Would you?!"

Paul smiled and nodded. "Sure thing. I'll teach you everything I remember."

"Magnifique! Merci, Monsieur, merci."

Paul stroked his muzzle thoughtfully. "I'll have to talk to a few people… we'll start in a few days, okay?"

"Sure," said Antoine. "And for now?"

"No training for now," he said, "just my assurance that I'll take your secret to the grave."

"Merci again."

"Keep up the good work," said Paul.

"Naturalment," said Antoine, slipping back into pidgin. "Now, where was I being? Oui, of coursing…"

* * *

><p>Bed checks had been complete for half an hour. Rosie still did them, even though she'd long since abandoned hope that the children would respect them. It wasn't the point any longer. The point was to see the children one last time, for them to have the comfort of her presence, for her to make sure their needs were met.<p>

And, occasionally, when Rosie needed to do something discreetly, they helped ensure privacy.

Rosie knocked on the door to Paul's hut. He opened the door. There was no light, but he could tell it was her by her size, her shape, and the feel of her hostility. "Rosie," he said in surprise. "Come in, come in."

"Thank you," she said from habit. She entered in. The furnishings were bare—one chair, one bed, one table. Rosie only vaguely remembered where they were. She shuffled carefully in the darkness—knocking into one of those fixtures would be more damaging to her than her young charges.

"Pleasant evening," said Paul cheerily. "A little hot. A little dark."

"Like always," Rosie said, and regretted it immediately. Already she was accusatory. 'I've been here a long time, and you haven't'—that's what those words said. She wasn't even being deliberately hostile. It just came so naturally. _Then again, given what I'm here to do…_

"What brings you here this night?" said Paul, tactfully ignoring her.

She hesitated. The ice was still too thick. "Well… I'll admit, I haven't had a conversation like this in a long time," she said. "I was such a young thing when last I talked to a man I couldn't see."

"You're still young, aren't you?"

Oh, NOW he could be flattering. "Not as young as I used to be. You know, a lot of communication is done without words. If we can't see each other, we miss out on all sorts of cues."

"Should this wait until morning, then?"

"No," she said firmly. "It should be tonight, while the children are in bed."

Paul chuckled. "They are amazing, aren't they? I may have been that young once, but I was never… like them when I was young."

"That's why I came tonight, actually. I wanted to talk to you about the children."

"Oh?"

A moment's pause. Confrontation was not in her nature. She'd given the children talkings-to when they needed it, of course. It was different, though, because such incidents always had overtones of love. The underlying message was always the same: I love you. Whatever words she was saying, "I love you" was always part of her meaning, and it explained everything. Don't pick on Antoine, because I love you and I don't want you to be a mean person. Share because you need to learn how now and I love you. I love you, that's why you have to clean up after yourself, so you don't get sick and spider-bitten.

It was different now. She had no love in her heart for Paul. But if her love for the children had been any less, she wouldn't have been there that night.

She plunged ahead. "Do you think you're being clever?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've been watching you, Mr. Paul. I see the way you talk to the children. I see the way you plant doubt in their minds. Like… today, when they were training, and you wondered aloud why they were running sprints instead of long distances."

"It was an honest question. I was trained otherwise."

"And you told the children as much," she said, as if it proved something.

Paul shook his head, though the gesture was lost on Rosie. "You think I have more subtlety than I have," he said.

"Or later," she said, plowing on. "You wondered why Rotor didn't devote all his time to machinery."

"He's good at it."

"You said he shouldn't go to the city with the other children."

"I just pointed out that he's slower than they are."

"And then said that he'd hold them up."

"He took it way too personally, I thought. Guess he thought I was calling him fat. I reckon he doesn't like me much."

"I can see what your plan is, Paul."

"Can you? Fill me in. I'm winging it."

"I don't appreciate your sarcasm."

"That wasn't sarcasm. Sorry. I haven't had anyone to talk to for seven years, I'm out of practice."

"You're trying to become their leader."

He said nothing in response, so Rosie continued. "More and more you're making it clear that you think you can tell them what to do. You think you have ideas that will help them. You want to be their leader."

"Well, you sure aren't doing a very good job."

"Ha! You think I _want_ to be their leader? You don't get it at all! I'm their nanny!"

Paul rolled his eyes, though the gesture was missed. "Riiight, so you make their meals, and clean their rooms, and coddle them, and do nothing to help them actually survive."

"Unlike you, I don't pretend to know what will help them!" said Rosie. "I didn't bring them here with the idea that I would build… I don't know, some sort of commando unit, like in your precious army. I brought them here because they were children, barely more than babies, and I had to keep them alive. That they've grown so much… that they've blossomed like this…it's amazing to me, wondrous. Like planting a dandelion and getting a rose bush out of it. It's nothing I did, certainly."

"Yes, yes, I understand. You just kept them alive, and you did a good job of it. That job's over, you know. Time to step aside, time to let someone else take the reins."

"You still don't get it, do you? Sally did that years ago. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Their skills, their stealth, their smarts—they developed it all on their own. I wasn't smart enough to teach them anything of the sort. But I was smart enough to realize what I needed to do."

"And what's that?"

"Stay out of their way."

She was breathing heavily. She hadn't been this worked up in ages, and it was taking its toll on her. Already she was so, so tired, but she needed to stay and see this through. Paul spoke again. "Interesting analogy, there, about the rose bush."

"Thank you."

"But the thing is, if you want a rose bush to reach its full potential, you don't just let it grow wild. You have to water it, and prune it, and weed around it, and pay it all sorts of attention."

"Ha! Like you could be their gardener. They're beyond you, boy."

Paul bridled against her words. "Listen to yourself! When I came here you yelled at me for having 'an uncivil tongue'. What happened, granny? Did you forget your manners after all?"

"I'm not done being uncivil. I came here tonight to give you a warning."

"Huh? What's that?"

She drew herself in as haughtily as she could manage. "I don't care what happens to you," she said, her voice cold. "But don't you _dare_ hurt those children."

"Or what?" Paul challenged. "You'll get angry at me? Send me to bed without my supper?"

"No. I'll ask you to leave."

"Ask me! Oh, I'm quaking in my boots."

"My voice still carries some weight with the children," she said. "I couldn't throw you out myself. But the children could. And I suspect they would, if I asked them to."

"Ha! Some threat. You 'suspect'. You have 'some weight'. What a joke. Besides, why would I want to hurt the children?"

"I don't think you'd want to. I think that you'd do it accidentally, in your clumsiness and foolishness."

"Granny, I don't have to sit here and listen to you insult me and make wild threats. I think I've been more than patient with you here."

"Yes, I've taken up enough of your precious time, I'm sure," she sneered. "You never had enough time to yourself during those _seven years_ you spent alone, forgetting everything you knew. Believe me, boy. The children know what they're doing. If you tamper with them, you'll only damage them."

"You know nothing about me. You don't know where I've been or what I've done or the things I've seen."

"No," she said. "I suppose I don't. But I do know that those children have done more to fight Robotnik than you ever could. And when you fail, I don't want you to take the children down with you."

"That's enough. Get out of my hut."

She laughed vindictively. "Your hut? Ha! The hut the children gave you! You still don't get it!"

"Get out!"

She rose slowly, with dignity. Long-ago training for the Royal Court still had its uses. "Mr. Paul," she said, "I will leave now. I understand you didn't want to hear what I told you. But if you ignore me, you'll only confirm yourself a fool. If you forget everything else, remember this: Don't you _dare_ hurt those children."

"GET OUT!"

Rosie bowed her head in acknowledgment and walked out. The fire of her anger still burned hot. She trembled with residual passion.

And, by the side of Paul's hut, two girls rested against the wall, their hearts pounding in their chests.

"Didja hear all that?" whispered Bunnie. "What the hoo-ha was _that_ about?"

"Shh!" hissed Sally. "Let's get back, then we'll talk."

They crept away. The adults never knew they were there.

* * *

><p>There was a tension in the air in Knothole. You would think that the absence of a loud, obnoxious early-morning wakeup would improve people's moods, but instead everyone woke with a sense of unsettlement.<p>

Rosie and Paul were shaken up from their late-night quarrel; Sally and Bunnie were as shaken up from hearing it, and from the whispered discussions that had followed late into the night. Antoine was still concerned about his secret being discovered. Rotor was torn between his appreciation for Paul's toy and his antipathy for Paul. Sonic was generally angry. And poor Tails, though he had no cause for unhappiness himself, absorbed the unhappiness of his friends, and it soured his mood in turn.

* * *

><p>"Change of plans, everyone," said Sally. "After morning chores are done, we're going to head over by the apple tree and play Dodge."<p>

Some of the children cheered while others moaned. All attended to their chores with enthusiasm. The children had come up with many different games, and Dodge was always a popular one.

When the chores were done, a couple of hours before noon, each kid grabbed a Swatbot part and headed out beyond the village borders.

"Who's first?" said Tails with enthusiasm. Even when the others didn't let him play, he loved to watch.

"Let's give the arm a spin," said Sonic. "Whoever he's pointing at has to be the Swatbot."

"Sonic!" said Sally, scandalized. "Use a different finger!"

Sonic grinned, folded the Swatbot's middle finger back down, and extended the Swatbot's pointer finger.

He held the arm in the middle of the group, gave it a twirl, and let it fall. "Rotor's first in the suit," he said. He repeated the process. "Chasin' Bunnie," he said.

Rotor groaned. "That's not fair," he said.

"Could be worse," Sonic laughed. "Coulda been me!"

Rotor buried his face in his hand. "Help me into the suit, will you?"

There was a rustling of bushes nearby. Paul pushed his way through them. He was still unfamiliar with the children's clever passages through the forest. "Morning, kids," he said.

"Mornin', Mr. Paul," answered Bunnie.

"What are you doing?" he asked with a laugh. Rotor looked pretty ridiculous at the moment—he was lying flat on his back while Sonic and Sally shut pieces of the Swatbot around his limbs.

"Gettin' ready to play Dodge," Tails answered. "Rotor has to be the Swatbot."

"You've got to explain this one to me," said Paul. He walked over to where Tails, Antoine, and Bunnie were sitting. Antoine shook with nervousness and didn't meet Paul's eyes.

"Well, it's pretty simple. One of us has to dress up like the Swatbot. They have to chase someone else. If the Swatbot touches the kid with its hands, the Swatbot wins. The kid tries to make the Swatbot fall down. If it does, the kid wins."

"That's it?"

"That's it! Best two out of three."

"So it's not really a game, it's training."

Tails gave him a look that said Paul was crazy. "What are you talking about? Of course it's a game!"

Tails started talking about who was good and who was bad at the game, to which Paul gave his complete attention. Sonic and Sally stopped fixing up Rotor to have a heated discussion on where the out-of-bounds line was, leaving poor Rotor helpless. Out of the corner of her eye, Sally saw Bunnie whispering to Antoine. _Just as planned,_ she thought.

"Here we go," Sally said, snapping the Swatbot chestplate into place. "Are you ready, Rotor?"

"Yeah. Haul me up." Sally and Sonic each grabbed an arm to help lever Rotor off the ground. Rotor flexed the Swatbot's arms, took a couple of experimental steps. "Okay, I'm ready. Hand me the head."

Sonic handed the large Swatbot half-dome to Rotor. "Pretty slick, Rote," he said. "If I didn't know better I'd say you _were_ a Swatbot, 'cept they stink more."

"Thanks… I think," said Rotor.

The game had been Sonic's idea, Sally's plan, and Rotor's execution. He'd hollowed out the Swatbot until it was just a shell. Then he'd rigged the inside with levers, extenders, and adapters so that a child's natural movement was mimicked by the Swatbot. It had taken him weeks of hard work to get it right. All the while, Sonic had helped him, supplying him with tools, parts, and the gift of his presence. Even when he didn't win, Rotor loved playing Dodge. Seeing a project work out as planned was poetry in motion.

"Alright, I'm ready," said Rotor. Sonic and Sally retreated to the out of bounds line while Bunnie made her way to face off with Rotor. When she was close by she snapped her heels together and gave him a formal bow. Rotor tried to do the same, then stopped as he began to lose his balance. He took a stutter step and kept from falling down. He took a wild swipe at Bunnie, but she was dancing away.

"Shucks," she said with a grin, "thought I'd getcha with that."

"You fight dirty!" said Rotor.

"Get 'er, Rote!" hollered Sonic.

Sally gave him a puzzled look. "You're rooting for the bad guy?"

"Rote's not a bad guy, Sal."

"But he's pretending to be one."

"Good point. C'mon, Bunnie! Kick that can!"

"Rosie and Paul had a fight."

Sonic looked suddenly at Sally, but she was still facing towards the game. They were sitting a short distance from where Paul and Tails were still deep in conversation; quietly as Sally had spoken, only Sonic could have heard her. He faced back towards the game. "'S that right?"

"Yes. She said—GO BUNNIE!—she said he'd better not hurt us."

"Psh, how would he hurt us?"

"She said he was trying to become our leader."

Now Sonic turned to glare at her. He kept glaring at her until she turned to look back at him. "You're just figuring this out?" he said.

She flushed and turned away. "A-and she said she'd try to get us to throw him out of the village if he hurt us."

"Come on, he touched her for sure!"

Sally looked back towards the tree. Bunnie was panting heavily—the Swatbot had greater reach, so staying outside of its range was taxing. She darted around to her right. Rotor turned clumsily, but it didn't take much energy to do so, while Bunnie's dashes were beginning to take a toll. He turned in time to keep Bunnie from getting behind him. It was just enough defense to keep himself protected and wear her down.

"He said she hasn't taught us enough to keep us alive. He said she was a bad leader, and that we needed help to take the next step."

Sonic scowled.

"And then she said we were already past where he could help us."

Sonic shook his head. "It's like I'm hearin' things on repeat. We've been having this argument ourselves."

"I guess we have—GO BUNNIE! The adults can't figure it out either."

"Yeah, but I trust Rosie."

"Oh?"

"'Cuz who on this planet knows us better than she does?"

Sally had no immediate answer, and events robbed her of the chance to respond. Bunnie somehow slithered beneath Rotor's grasp. When Rotor tried to step backwards, the back of his heel caught on a root. He fell backwards and landed hard.

Bunnie stood over him and held up two fingers. "That's two falls, Rotor-hun. I win again."

Sally smiled wryly. "Look at that, we missed the whole game."

"It happens." Sonic popped up. "Alright, Sal and I are up next!" Antoine looked like he might object for a moment, then thought better of it. There was something in Sonic's eyes that wasn't brooking discussion.

Sonic, Sally, and Bunnie helped Rotor out of the suit, then began putting it on Sally. Before she put the head on, she said to Bunnie, "We still have Rotor to tell."

"Tell what?" asked Rotor.

Bunnie grasped his hand. "Over here, Rotor-hun."

Sally plopped the half-dome over her head. It limited her vision, quieted her voice, and took away much of her hearing. Serious handicaps, all, handicaps that didn't apply fully to actual Swatbots. It was an imperfect simulation, but it was the best they could do.

Sonic stood a few paces away, arms crossed, foot tapping. "Yo Sal, I'm waiiitiiing."

"I'm ready," she told him.

"So am I," he replied, but didn't move.

Sally frowned. This was new. Usually when Sonic played Dodge, he went on the attack immediately. He used his speed to get around the other player and push and pull from every angle. That's why Sally's favorite tactic against him was to put her back against the apple tree. He *hated* that.

This time, though, he just stood there, impatience his attitude. What was he up to?

"Hey, are you gonna move or what?" he said.

"I could say the same thing," she answered.

He shook his head. "No way, Sal. It's YOUR job to move."

She thought back to the other times recently when Sonic had been angry like this. It was always when they were dealing with Paul—when she hesitated. That's what he was trying to tell her. She laughed aloud. "I think I get it now. Cute."

"I don't know what you're talkin' about," he said. "I'm playin' Dodge."

She lunged for him.

It almost caught him off-guard—almost. He'd been trying to provoke her to action, so he'd been on the lookout for it. When she came, he was able to nip around the outstretched Swatbot arm and get away.

"Now we're cookin'!" Sonic laughed. He hopped around on the balls of his feet, eager for more. Sally glanced to the sidelines. Bunnie was whispering in Rotor's ear. Good. Sally turned to Sonic and spread the bot's arms wide. She came in from her right, sweeping the right arm across in a broad arc. Hopefully, he'd dodge to the left, and she had a plan for how to nab him there.

No such luck. Instead of going to Sally's left, he bounced straight backwards, out of her reach. Then he zipped forward, shoving the Swatbot's hip to the side as he passed. It wasn't much, not enough to knock her down, but enough to keep her unsteady. He accelerated until he was running at a good clip. Sally had strictly limited the size of the playing field precisely to keep Sonic's speed down. Still, there was space enough for him to pull a tight turn at running speed. Sally turned as quickly as she could. Not enough time to defend herself, and he was coming so quickly, so she tried to step out of the way. Somehow, it didn't seem as if Sonic was even looking at her anymore; his attention was focused on the tree…

He leapt forwards and pulled a sort of high-speed flip. Instead of just one rotation, he did two, three, four, each one faster than the one before it—

A shriek filled the air as his body sliced through the wind—

And he landed gracelessly. Instead of rolling forward, he uncurled and slid keister-first towards a stunned Sally. With so much speed behind him he still covered a fair amount of ground, leaving a rut in the dirt behind him.

Sally didn't stay stunned for long. She pounced. A quick step forward, then she pressed both hands onto Sonic's gut. She lifted them for a moment, he tried to roll away, but she caught him and pressed him to the ground again.

"That's two," she said with a smile. "I win!"

She'd expected him to be unhappy, but he bounded to his feet with a wide grin. "Didja see, Sal? I almost had it! I almost did the new move!"

"That was your new move?"

"Nah, that was a lame-o version of it! The real thing is way past cool! And I almost did it!"

"You still lost."

"Hey, you keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better."

She laughed. "You can't say that when you lose, it doesn't even make sense!"

"You sweat the small stuff too much, Sal."

She rolled her eyes, but with a smile, not that Sonic could see either of those gestures with the dome covering her head. "Okay, help me out of this."

Paul waited until she was free to make his move. "So this game is training for getting away from Swatbots," Paul said. The children visibly stiffened. That gave Paul all the confirmation he needed. He went on, "Plus, since someone has to be the Swatbot, it makes you think about their part of it, so you have a better idea how to get away."

Sonic and Sally glanced at each other. Sally flicked her eyes at Tails. Sonic gave an almost imperceptible nod. "What are you talking about, Mr. Paul?" said Sally. "It's just a game."

Paul opened his mouth to respond, but Sonic talked over him. "Hey, big guy, race ya back to Knothole!"

That drew Tails' attention immediately. "But I wanna watch you guys play Dodge!"

"Nah, I was just about to juice home. So come on, race ya!"

Tails glanced desperately back and forth between Paul and Sonic. "Sonic," he whined.

"You're givin' me a big head start, big guy!" He headed out at what would be a brisk jog for most people but was, for him, barely more than a crawl.

"But Sonic!"

"Boy, this race sure is fun!"

Tails gave in. In his world, no star shone brighter than Sonic. "Wait up, Sonic, I'm coming!"

"Alright, way to go, Tails!"

Sally waited until Tails was out of earshot before turning to Paul. "We try to protect him," said Sally. "He doesn't need to know… everything."

"How does that help him?" said Paul. "You're going to need his help sooner or later."

"We didn't understand until we were ten," said Sally. "We sort-of knew when we were five. But we tried to forget. We didn't really know until ten. That was too soon. He doesn't need that burden yet."

Paul shook his head. "You have to balance wants and needs. If you need Tails, then what you want for him is less important."

Bunnie's face became stern. "Listen, Mr. Paul, y'all have some good points. You can help us out on some things, Ah know that much. But don't try an' tell us what sugar-Tails needs."

"That's the thing, though. Do you know what you need? You haven't had any fresh eyes looking at your problems, ever. I think it would be really helpful if you had a little different perspective, a little more experience, to give you some direction."

"So… you want to be the boss?" said Rotor tentatively. He was the only one who dared say what all of them were thinking.

Being called out seemed to steal Paul's momentum. He recovered quickly. "Well, yes. Tell you what. I'll say my piece, then I'll leave, and you kids can decide what to do. Sound fair?"

The children nodded, some enthusiastically, some grudgingly. Paul began to pace. His tail wagged excitedly. "I've been on the run for seven years," he said. "For seven years I've lived alone and hopeless. I guess it's hard for you to imagine, since you've had a home all these years, and you've had each other. I had a family, once. A home. Even when I was in the army, I wanted more than anything to go back to that home. I never got the chance. I lost everything when Robotnik attacked. I was coming back from the Great War, I'd just been discharged… and the city was already burning. I ran."

He shook his head. "From then on, what was I to do? I carved out a hiding place for myself. I managed to not starve to death, though I came close a couple of times. I survived. But for what? What was the point? I wasn't able to do anything. All my effort was focused on staying alive from day to day, and even that wasn't going well.

"I needed contact. I craved it. That's why I started building that scanner—it was to try and find if there was anyone else out there. But there never was. I was completely alone. There was no future for me, anyway. The future that I'd hoped for, that I'd dreamed about with the end of the war… it was gone. It's like going out to see the sunrise, and discovering that it's still night, and it'll be night forever.

"Then… then you found me."

Paul was so excited his hands were shaking. "I didn't tell you all of that to make you feel sorry for me. I wanted you to know what seeing you all means to me. What it'll mean to any other survivors out there. I never gave up hope that others survived; I knew they did! But I could never do anything for them. Not like you did for me. Not like what you will do for others.

"And that's what I see here. I see the beginning. After all this time, I'd started to think of Robotnik as invincible. But you know what? He's not! You kids can take him down. I know you can. And when I figured that out… I got my future back. After all this time in darkness, I can see the sun coming up, and it's a beauty."

He shook his head in disbelief. "You kids are the core of the machine that'll knock off Robotnik. You're the foundation. Once you start hitting back, we'll be able to get more help. People will realize that Robotnik's not all-powerful. They'll start hitting him. Others will try and join us. We'll get stronger, and stronger, until we're powerful enough to take Robotnik on directly. It can be done! It can! And you're the key. It all starts with you."

He stopped for a moment. He hadn't talked this much in ages. His throat was sore from the effort. He needed something to drink. Sally filled the silence. "Mr. Paul… you still haven't explained why you want to be the leader."

"Because I want to be a part of this," he said. "I don't imagine I'll be the leader long. You're smart, much smarter than I am. Eventually I won't be of much help. But I can help this process along. I can help you now.

"I was in the army, so I do know about fighting and getting people together and training them. I'll give you every bit of my knowledge—knowledge you couldn't have without me. Sure, you'd probably figure it out eventually, but I can help you out. You don't have to go through trial-and-error so long as I have the answer.

"I've got experience, so I can be a lot of help while you're making judgment calls. It's more than just me knowing how I was trained. I'm a grown-up. I've made lots of important decisions, and I've done pretty well, so I know I'm good at it. You don't have to worry about it."

Sally seemed to respond to that. "You don't have to worry about it," he repeated. "You've had to make all of your own decisions for a while, since Rosie was no help. I know you've done a good job of it, but it must've been really hard. It won't be hard for me. So let me make the hard decisions, and you guys concentrate on getting better. It's basic division of labor, right? We do what we're good at. Well, you kids are good at learning, you're good at figuring things out, you're good at fighting. So you do those things, and let me do the worrying and the deciding.

"I can't make you un-know that you're fighting a war. But you don't have to carry that burden alone. Not if I'm here to carry it for you."

Paul's throat was cracking. "I'm done, whether I like it or not. But… think about what I've said. Think about the best way to fight this war. I think you'll agree. You're incredible children, but you are still just children. You deserve a little help, at least. Well, I'll give you all the help I can. I trust you completely. I'm going to trust you with everything, since you gave me my future back. I just hope you can trust me a little."

He breathed heavily a few times. His eyes zeroed in on Sally. The others' opinions were nice to have, but she was the one he had to convince. He knew that without a doubt. The others looked to her for leadership.

Sally was biting her lip. Her brow was knit in concern.

"I'm heading back to the village," he said. "Let me know what you decide."

"We will, Monsieur," said Antoine.

Paul spared a last glance at Sally. She seemed reluctant for him to leave. He gave her an encouraging smile, turned, and walked for the village.

* * *

><p>It was night in the Great Forest. It was almost time for Rosie's bed checks, but there was one last chore to do. It only took one person to do this chore. Sonic was doing it for now.<p>

It was waiting.

Right outside the village was a pool of water that split off from, then rejoined, the river. The pool was small, but deep, and even though its waters were amazingly clean, you couldn't see all the way to the bottom. That's where a unique machine rested.

That's where the Power Rings came from.

The Rings could be used to power machinery, but Knothole had few needs in that regard. More often they were used to give Sonic the edge against any competition. Either way, the rings didn't last long, losing power over time before they vanished altogether. The machine produced the rings automatically, not on demand, so keeping up Knothole's supply meant getting them when the machine spat them out. There was enough variation in the machine's schedule that you could never be exactly sure when the ring would come.

So someone had to sit by the pool and wait. Sonic was doing that chore tonight.

He had his shoes off and was dangling his feet in the water of the pool. He had a sad expression on his face, which he knew, since he was staring at his reflection. His shoulders were slumped. Any moment now the ring would come and the chore would be finished until morning, but he was in no hurry. As tiny as Knothole was, time alone was a rare and valuable thing.

The point was proven a moment later. Paul approached.

Sonic knew who it was without looking, by the way the adult crashed through the underbrush. "Hey Paul," he said without enthusiasm.

"Evening, Sonic." He walked over to Sonic and sat. "Why so blue?"

"That's a new one."

"Sorry. I had to say it sooner or later. Seriously, though, why are you so down?"

Sonic started to speak, then stopped. It wasn't that he was hesitant to speak his mind. Sonic Hedgehog would never be accused of that. It's that he didn't know how to explain. How do you put words to a feeling? Poets and songwriters have wrestled with that question for millennia without success. Sonic was not in a position to do better. All he knew for certain was that things were not right. They were not as they should be.

He grabbed a handful of dirt and tossed it into the pool. The waters darkened where the dirt hit. "I like it when things are simple," he said.

"Life isn't simple. It's a pain, I know."

"It's okay if life isn't simple. I just want the things I care about to be simple."

Paul laughed. "That's asking an awful lot, isn't it?"

"Apparently." Sonic kicked his feet. The dirt had already dissolved, leaving the water clean and clear once more. "It's just… I thought I had things figured out."

"And then nothing made sense anymore? I know exactly what you mean." Paul nodded sagely. "It's part of growing up. You look at things differently, and you wonder how you ever got there in the first place."

Sonic shrugged noncommittally. "Not really. Just… people are harder to get than I thought."

Paul couldn't think of anything to say to that. Luckily he had a different topic in mind. "Today, when you played Dodge, I thought that you were really something."

Sonic snorted. "I lost!"

"Sure, you lost. But I kept thinking about how amazing you'll be with even a little bit of training."

Sonic let his head droop. "If I ever get it to work," he said.

"Sonic… you're something else. The others… they're good, sure. But you're incredible. I think… I think I'd like to spend some time with just you."

Sonic looked over. "Whaddya mean?"

"You've got more power than all the others combined. I'd like to work with you one-on-one, some, to figure out how to use that best. We'll see if we can't bring out your full potential."

Sonic shook his head. "What am I without…" he stopped, as if something had just occurred to him. "Y'know? Let's do it. Sounds like a blast."

"Great!" said Paul. "I can't wait!"

Sonic grinned back at him. It's a shame that Paul knew Sonic so poorly. His friends would have recognized instantly that there was something unsettling about his smile, something hard about his face, and something unkind about his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

Rosie fretted.

Two weeks had passed since the children had made Paul their leader. Paul had remade their training routines. They hadn't gone to the city since.

Paul was standing outside the main hall. Tails was by his side. The children were dashing from hut to hut, shouting "bang!" as loud as they could.

Didn't Paul realize that they couldn't win by taking on the Swatbots like that? Didn't he realize that firefights always resulted in casualties, that in straight-up fights numbers always told?

Now Paul called an end to it, and the children rushed back to circle around him. There Paul was, no doubt telling them that they'd done perfect, and saying the Swatbots didn't stand a chance, and coddling them as viciously as he'd warned against coddling Tails…

Rosie halted herself. No. This was not her place. She'd said her bit, she'd warned Paul, and now her role was over.

Helpless. That's what she was. She thought it would be due to her old age. In fact, it was because of the children's choice. And her choice.

As she made them salads, she willed that her love would reach them and, even if they didn't know it was there, keep them safe.

She despaired.

* * *

><p>The door to Rotor's hut opened. "What are you up to, Rotor?"<p>

Rotor looked up. "Sally," he said in surprise. "Is something wrong?"

"No, why would it be?"

"Oh. It's just… you don't usually come around when I'm working on stuff. It's usually…"

"Sonic. I know. Sonic's with Paul right now."

Even Rotor could make out the slight hint of bitterness in her voice. He decided to leave the subject alone. "Well, you picked a good time. I think I've got Paul's scanner working. Come on inside."

Sally walked into Rotor's hut. The line between his side and Antoine's was very clear. She stayed on Antoine's side; Rotor's side left barely enough room to walk and none to sit. Rotor was sitting on his bed. Parts were strewn across the top of the dresser that separated the two beds. As Sally watched, he snapped shut a black box. It didn't look like much, just a block of black plastic with a small red light on top and a few switches and buttons on the side.

"So what is it?"

"It's a comms scanner," said Rotor. "It's supposed to intercept Robotnik's communications and let us listen in."

"Robotnik's comms are encrypted," said Sally. "We tried this last year. All we got was gibberish."

"Yeah," said Rotor sadly, "and I spent three weeks working on that project. The problem was that I could make the interceptor work, but I couldn't read the message."

"I remember," said Sally. "I studied up a little on crypto when we were trying this out. I wanted to see if we could get a work-around. I couldn't manage it. We'd need some heavy-duty computers, and even then, it would be slow. What's the point in waiting three days to read a message that matters for ten minutes?"

"You're way ahead of me, Sally. All I know is that Paul gave me the circuit cards and the parts and told me to make it work. That's exactly what I did."

"But how?" said Sally. "There doesn't look like there's enough processing power in there to break Robotnik's encryption."

"He was a comms tech, so he said he remembered a few tricks," said Rotor. The skepticism in his voice was clear. "A few things the techs knew, but weren't in any manual."

"Like what?"

"He said there was a bug in Robotnik's random number generator."

"Really? That's great, Rotor!" she said.

"Is it? I don't know enough to know."

Sally considered for a moment sharing what she knew about encryption with Rotor. She thought about how Rotor only learned well those things he could take apart. She decided to keep it simple. "Encryption uses a random number to change how the program works. I think he's saying that a particular number comes up way too often. If he figured out how to read messages for that number, then every once in a while we can read one message instantly."

"That's not very many."

"It's way more than we're reading now," she said reasonably.

"True. Only one way to know for sure. Grab those headphones."

He flipped a switch on the box. They waited and stared at it.

Nothing happened.

"Rotor… is it on?"

He glanced at it. "It's on," he said.

Nothing happened.

"Is it… supposed to do something?"

"If it picks up something it can translate, that red light will light up," said Rotor. "Then we can listen to the message over these headphones."

Nothing happened.

"Maybe we're out of range," said Sally.

"We are an awful long way from Robotropolis."

Nothing happened.

Sally got up from the bed—though reluctantly, as if she didn't relish going back outside. "Well, thanks for showing me."

Rotor frowned. "Aww… I was sure I'd got it working."

"It probably is," said Sally. "We just can't pick up anything out—what is it?!"

The light had just illuminated. Rotor tossed the headphones on and pressed a couple buttons. The children waited, hardly daring to breathe.

Rotor exhaled and laughed weakly. "It's… heh. It's nothing important."

"I still want to hear it," she answered. He shrugged and obligingly handed over the headphones.

"Hover unit one-one-three-eight returning to patrol. No abnormalities."

Sally slipped the headphones off. "That was less than enlightening."

"Sorry."

"Sorry? Are you kidding? This is wonderful, Rotor! To think we have even an inkling of what's happening inside the city, without having to go there... if this replaces just one recon mission a month, it's worth its weight in gold!"

"Most likely we'll get a bunch of reports like that one."

"Maybe," she admitted. "But it costs us nothing to try, right?"

Rotor nodded.

"Thanks for showing me, Rotor," said Sally as she headed for the door.

"Any time."

She stopped before she left. "Rotor," she said, "is Sonic mad at me?"

"Why would he be?" said Rotor in confusion.

"I was just asking if he was."

Rotor turned his attention back to the scanner. "I-I don't really know," Rotor said. "He hasn't talked to me much the past few days. He's been spending most of his time with Paul."

"Oh," Sally said softly.

The quiet between them deepened as they thought about their erstwhile friend. Sally and Rotor liked each other well enough. They liked each other more as part of a group, and that group included Sonic. Sonic was out of the group now, and it left everything else in a jumble.

"I think I made him mad," said Sally.

"I think so, too."

"What should I do?"

Rotor blanched. "You're asking me?"

She gave a wry smile. "Now that I think about it, I've been able to push off some of my responsibilities onto Paul. But there are some things I just have to do myself."

She walked away. Rotor wondered what she meant.

* * *

><p>"Gather round, kids," said Paul. "This is it. This is the night we hit back for the first time. All this training we've done has been about what to do with blasters. Tonight, we get blasters."<p>

"'Cept me," said Sonic smugly. "I don't need one to deal damage."

"Right," said Paul. Sonic beamed. "I've explained the plan before. So let's review. Before we get there, we'll divide into two groups. Raise your hand if you're in the overwatch group." Sally, Bunnie, Rotor, and Antoine raised their hands. "And the intruder group?" Sonic raised his hand. "Good. We're going to hit a security station in the southwest. We'll use the watches to make sure we're all on the same schedule. What time does everyone need to be in position?"

"9:15", they answered as one.

"Right. That should put us between cycles at the security station, and while the two Swatbots inside are recharging. But it might not, which is why the overwatch group will take a position in the junk heaps where they can see the station. If we had blasters, you could provide fire support if we need it. For now, you'll just keep an eye out in case bad guys come around. You'll signal us if you see anything. Meanwhile, Sonic and I will go inside, disable the two active bots, and make off with as many blasters as we can carry. We'll meet back up with the overwatch, hand the blasters out, and come home. Pretty simple!"

"Simple as it gets, AND we get to knock off some Swatbots," said Sonic. "Unlike some." He gave Sally a harsh look that left her hurt and bewildered. And, because she was thinking about that, she didn't notice something she normally would've pounced on immediately.

"We'll start travelling now," Paul said. "Sonic, if you'd do the honors?"

"Paul, sir, shouldn't we blindfold you?" said Sally.

"I don't see why, at this point," said Paul. "I'm as much a part of Knothole as you kids are!"

He'd said it jovially, but it froze the mood. No one could meet Paul's eyes, but no one said anything, either. They merely squirmed and looked about.

"Anyway, it's dark, so I won't know where I'm going," said Paul. "There's that."

"Let's hit the road, then!" said Sonic. "Sal, you'll be last."

Sally recoiled, stung a bit. The sensation remained, and even intensified, as he shuttled one child after another out to the forest's edge. Usually she was first, she thought, or second when they had things to carry. It wasn't like it was out of some right or privilege, she hastened to tell herself. It was just… how they always did things. Last? What was he trying to say?

The children made almost no small talk as they waited. Too much was in turmoil, too much was in doubt, for them to speak to each other with a light heart. Each retreated into his own thoughts.

After what seemed an interminable amount of time it was Sally's turn. She approached him, not from the back, but from the front. He saw her, and shook his head. "Nuh-uh. Not this time, Sal."

"We need to talk," she said firmly.

He exhaled unhappily. "Fine, fine. Come on."

Most people Sonic carried hung on—with as tight a grip as they could manage—to his backpack straps. Sally was unique. When Sonic carried her, he held her in his arms. One of his hands went behind her back, the other under her knees, while she looped her arms around his neck to lash their bodies together. It was a very intimate posture, one he shared with no one else.

It had started when, running from an unexpected encounter, he'd scooped her up mid-sprint because there'd been no time for anything else. It had continued since then, partly because, as Sally had pointed out, it was superior for conversation. Travel at Sonic's high speeds didn't permit much talking unless your faces were in close proximity.

That wasn't the whole reason. It was just the only one they admitted to.

So now, as Sally climbed into his embrace, Sonic felt his insides churn and bubble. This embrace, which normally seemed so right, so easy, so natural, somehow felt wrong now. It betrayed far too much.

"I know you've been angry at me," she said, once they were safely at high speed.

"Huh." He didn't look at her. He rarely did when he ran. It wasn't safe, even on the better paths.

"You're upset that I didn't include you when we made Paul our leader."

Sonic frowned.

"I can get that. It would upset me, too. I'm sorry about that. It wasn't on purpose. It's just how things turned out. You were with Tails at the time, and… well, it just shook out that way."

"Huh. Is that so?"

"If it makes you feel better, it wouldn't have mattered. We made Paul the leader by a vote of three-to-one. So even if you had been there, it wouldn't have changed anything."

"That's not the point," Sonic said.

"I said I was sorry, okay?"

"I get it, but you're… it's like you're apologizing for the rain. That's not somethin' I'd blame ya for."

"Then why did it make you so angry?"

"That's not what made me angry!" he said, and Sally could sense frustration and anger boiling up out of him. "You haven't noticed how mad I've been the past few weeks?"

"I noticed," she said, with forced good humor and a malformed smile, "but I thought you just had a rock in your shoe."

He scoffed. "Sal, it'd be pointless for me to be there for the vote. 'Cuz you woulda said the right things and had the right arguments and you woulda gotten your way. Which is fine," he added, before she could say anything, "because you always get your way. And you know what? That's cool. That's fine by me.

"But you know what gets me? What gets me is that we had to vote at all."

"It was a really important decision," Sally said. "I thought we needed to give everyone a chance to…"

"No, no, no!" said Sonic. "You're not getting it! This isn't about voting or, or whatever. It's about you! From the moment Paul showed up, you lost it. Whatever it is that lets you do all the things I—all the things you do, it went away when Paul showed up. And from then on, you've been spineless as a wet noodle."

His grip on her tightened to the point of pain. "I'm not angry that we made Paul our leader. I'm angry that it ever occurred to us in a million years for you _not_ to be the leader!"

Sally's heart pounded traitorously in her chest, as if she was the one running and not Sonic. And because they were so close, she knew he could tell. He could feel her hanging on his words, every one cutting through the silence and distance that had sprung up between them. He knew that his words mattered to her.

What else did he know?

It was because his words mattered to her, however much she pretended that they didn't, that she was sorry to have cut him out of the vote. That was sincere. It was also beside the point.

She shivered, betraying her nervousness if he paid even the slightest bit of attention. Did he know what else she was hiding? Did he suspect the shame she'd hidden from everyone? If anyone could sniff it out, it was him…

Sonic didn't press his advantage. In fact, he seemed to think he'd gone too far. He relaxed his hands and said nothing more, and Sally could see him withdraw into his own thoughts. Sally reviewed his words. They'd revealed more, perhaps, than he'd intended.

"I didn't know you cared," she said.

He spared a moment to look at her. "I carry you like this, don't I?"

He looked away just as quickly. Sally tightened her grip around his neck. There was more to say, but they couldn't manage it. They had shared only what was on their minds, not what was in their hearts.

Deception is a learned skill, but easy to use once acquired. Speaking from the heart is a native skill, but difficult.

It was getting more difficult by the day. Everything made it harder. Hormones, their social relationships, growing up, their mission to take down Robotnik, all contributed to the confusion and fear that they felt.

Their embrace did, as well. Here, like this, they were transparent to each other, connected by this posture. It felt right, but it was also terrifying. For a few moments, their conversation had brought them closer. It had been too much. They didn't dare let the other that close. So they retreated ever further from each other. They fled the contact, fled from each other, and hid. And they had to make the distance far, because even the slightest closure would be transmitted instantly from one body to the other. As close as their bodies were, the rest of them was separated by a vast gulf.

They spent the remainder of the trip in silence.

* * *

><p>Robotropolis was as oppressive as ever. The burning of so many fossil fuels kept the heat and humidity in the city unnaturally high year-round. The smog was thick enough now that sunlight rarely penetrated into the city proper. Moonlight never had a prayer. When the children went to the city, they were guided only by the lights put up for the robots' use. The lights of the city reflected off the thick clouds that lingered above, providing just enough background illumination to work by.<p>

Something was gnawing at the back of Bunnie's mind. Something that she felt that she'd missed. Was it something back during the mission brief? Was it something from when the groups had split up? Or was it earlier than that?

It made her uneasy, and so did what she saw now. Sally was looking at a fork in their path through the trash heaps. She was visibly annoyed. Sally had mapped out the mission plan with Paul, so Bunnie wasn't familiar with it, or she'd have gone to help. As it was, she depended entirely upon Sally, and Sally was looking upset.

"I am wishing Monsieur Paul was 'ere," said Antoine.

"You've said that three times now," said Bunnie crossly. "He ain't always gonna be there! What did we ever do before Paul was here?"

"Zen, I was not knowing 'ow good 'aving Paul would be. Eet is different in not knowing from knowing and not 'aving, no?"

"Well, suck it up," Bunnie replied. "Rotor-hun, are you with us?"

Rotor seemed to be paying no attention at all. He had headphones on and was fiddling incessantly with the receiver.

"Useless as kudzu," Bunnie mumbled.

"This way," called Sally. The uncertainty in her voice gave Bunnie pause.

"Sally-girl," she said, "we usually go past the heaps an' skim to where we're goin'. Why don't we just do that?"

Sally shook her head. "Paul wanted us to stay in the heaps to keep us concealed. We're going to take position at the last heap before the security station and hold there."

Bunnie bit her lip. "But… but ya don't try an' find your way around in the trash heaps," she said. "They change too much. Ya just get though, an' figure it out from there."

Sally balled her undersized hands into fists. "This way," she said again. Her voice carried a hollow conviction. Bunnie followed with trepidation.

This wasn't right, this wasn't right…

Sally was rushing past heap after heap and turning recklessly. The other children were having trouble keeping up, most of all Rotor, who wouldn't stop messing with the scanner. Bunnie began to become disoriented. She glanced at her watch. They had plenty of time to get into position, why was Sally so…

She almost plowed into Sally from behind. She'd come to a complete stop for no obvious reason. Antoine stumbled trying to stop, nearly knocking Bunnie over. Rotor couldn't stop in time. All four of them tumbled to the ground. None escaped unscathed. They collected a nasty assortment of shallow cuts and bruises from the unforgiving garbage.

"Okay, Sally-girl, what the hoo-ha is going on?" Bunnie demanded. "We ain't goin' nowhere until you get yerself straightened out!"

Sally looked up and around. The path they'd been following ended in a cul-de-sac. There was nowhere to go from here. Sally sniffed audibly. Bunnie followed suit. There was a hint of strong chemicals—they were close to an area they usually avoided. An icy chill raced down Bunnie's spine. Her toes curled and her heart started to thump hard in her chest. There were only two reasons they might be in a place like this. Maybe the security station was close to a chemical dumping ground. Or maybe…

Sally looked at Bunnie. Her eyes were wide. The chill flooded outwards from Bunnie's back until she felt it in her toes.

"I'm lost!" Sally squeaked.

* * *

><p>Sonic looked around the corner. "It's cool," he whispered. He and Paul rounded the edge of the building and headed for the next bit of cover.<p>

Sonic watched Paul from the corners of his eyes. Paul was moving too tall. His back was straight as a board. He was making no effort to lower his profile.

Sonic frowned. Hadn't Paul told them during training to 'hug cover like an old friend'?

They came to a stop behind an above-ground piping run. Paul limbered his blaster above the run and looked down its length at the surrounding environs.

"Why're you doin' that?" said Sonic. "If anything's out there, we're gonna hide, not shoot it, right?"

Paul ducked back behind the pipe run. "Just checking," he said. Sonic found that less than reassuring. He distracted himself by looking at his watch.

"We've got ages, still," he said.

"Better too early than too late," said Paul. "Let's keep moving. That trash pile is next." He swept out from behind the piping run. He kept his blaster raised and walked steadily towards the pile. As Sonic followed, he wondered what Paul was thinking.

Sonic could do things he couldn't explain. He knew intuitively, without thought, how to run and leap and maneuver in ways that made people's jaws drop. He could never have explained how he did them. His actions were at the level of instinct—sometimes it seemed deeper still, almost genetic.

Paul appeared to be the opposite. He had told them how to do a number of things. He'd trained them on approaching a target, moving carefully, staying concealed—behaviors, Sonic realized now, that they'd already known—but he wasn't following his own training. All the words he'd said to them didn't correspond to things he felt.

Once they were safely behind the garbage pile, Sonic grabbed Paul's arm. "Yo, Paul, let's chill a moment," he said.

Paul looked like he wanted to go on, but the urgent look on Sonic's face convinced him. "Alright. Are you having problems? Are you scared?"

The question was so absurd Sonic laughed. "I'm not scared," he said, and realized immediately how child-like he sounded. "How often do you cruise by the city?" he asked, hoping it sounded innocent.

"Cruise by?"

"Since Robotnik took over, how many times have you dropped in on the city?"

Paul shrugged. "A few."

"So, what, 500 times?"

Paul began to laugh and shake his head. Sonic started talking again before he could get very far. "400? 300? Stop me when I get there. 250? 200? 150? 100?"

The words were coming so fast they nearly tripped over each other. Paul had no response.

"Seventy-five? Sixty? Fifty? Forty? Thirty?"

"Probably ten," said Paul thoughtfully. "A few more times if you count when I didn't go past the trash heaps."

Sonic stared.

In the past two years, Sonic and his friends had gone to Robotropolis with ever-increasing frequency. For them, ten trips was a typical month. Ten trips in seven years blew Sonic's mind.

That was why he didn't feel it, Sonic realized with growing panic. Paul distantly remembered what the right things were. He was out of practice. He'd forgotten how to actually do the things he knew were important.

"Paul, I…" "Sonic…"

They'd tried to talk over each other. Sonic hesitated a moment. "You go first," he said.

"I was just saying it's time to move on," Paul said. "We don't want Sally and the others to get into position for nothing, do we?"

Sonic pressed his lips together. Sally… He clenched his gloved hands into fists. The thought gave him a new spur. He'd been on the verge of asking for them to back out of the mission. He couldn't, now. He wouldn't face Sally like this, not after giving her so much grief.

The only reason he'd become such a devoted student under Paul had been to spite her. He had to see this through.

"Alright, let's do it," he said.

They moved on, sneaking ever-closer to the security station. Sonic's thoughts were elsewhere.

Why had he thought he needed to spite Sally? Wasn't she his friend? Wasn't she… he cut the line of thinking short. His friend. That's what she was. And a good leader, to be sure. So why was he doing this?

He mulled over it as he dodged around the obstacles of the city. He absent-mindedly kept Paul from blundering into a security scanner the children had found a month ago. He steered well clear of some mega-muck, now that he knew that's what it was. He did all this without paying attention.

Sonic was not a deep thinker, exactly, a fact Sally seemed to enjoy mentioning. Even when he tried he was easily distractible. This time, he couldn't stop chewing on the question more important than any other.

Why had Sonic chosen Paul over Sally?

* * *

><p>Find your position, backtrack, check position again, use that as a reference to start moving, check to see if that's the right direction, move some more, check position…<p>

The basic processes of land navigation were much harder when the only reference points were the towering buildings of the city in the distance and the maze was ever-changing.

The children felt urgency boiling up as time ticked away. Getting lost hadn't been as big a deal when they had half an hour to get to their destination. It was a much bigger deal when Sonic and Paul were going to be on-site at any moment.

"There!" Sally shouted with equal parts excitement and relief. "There's a gap in the wall. If we get through that, we should be able to see the station."

It wasn't so much an opening in the wall as it was a clear space where two competing piles of garbage hadn't yet merged together. The children darted through it, one after another, all the same.

The security station was in sight. The four children nipped behind a mound of smashed concrete. Relieved to find something not obviously hazardous, they leaned against it to catch their breath.

"Sacre bleu," muttered Antoine, "and we are not even leaving yet! 'Ow are we going to escape when we are already tiredment?"

"We'll worry about that later," said Sally. Her breathing was labored. "See anything?"

Bunnie and Rotor peered around the edges of their cover.

"Just the station, Sally," said Rotor.

"Good," she said, sighing her relief. "I was afraid we wouldn't make it in time to do our job."

Rotor took the moment to bring the scanner back to bear. Bunnie smacked his arm. "Oh, give it up!" she said with irritation. He sheepishly stuffed it into a bandolier pocket, where it protruded unsteadily.

"I am not knowing why we are here," Antoine said. "We know ze pattern of ze patrols, no? So what dangair is zere?"

"Hold on just one minute!" said Bunnie, cutting off all conversation. Her face took on an intense aspect before she looked around the edge of their cover. "Oh mah stars, a hover unit's comin'!"

"It can't be, we had this patrol pattern down to the second!" Sally protested. "The nearest hover unit should be four blocks away and opening the distance!"

"But there it is, Sally-girl!" said Bunnie, pointing.

They didn't want to believe it. They had no choice in the matter. "We've got to warn Paul and Sonic," said Rotor.

All eyes looked to Sally. Her face had drained of all color and her eyes were as wide as saucers.

Paul had never told her how they were supposed to signal him.

* * *

><p>"This is it! Are you ready, Sonic?"<p>

"I'm all over it like chili on a hot dog."

Paul laughed. "You probably are. Let's go!"

The whole reason for separating from the other group was so that Sally could watch the front while Sonic and Paul entered from the side. Now the two intruders sprinted the last couple of meters into the security station and nipped inside via the hangar, which was wide open.

Sonic and Paul hugged the wall of the hangar as they edged towards the back. It was a tighter squeeze getting around the hover units than they had expected. Ahead there was a hallway connecting the hangar to the Swatbot station, from whence the Swatbots monitored cameras and recharged both bots and blasters. The plan was to hit the station while there were only two Swatbots there, and those two recharging.

Paul hefted his blaster. "Here I go," he said. "Stay here and I'll whistle for you."

"Say what?"

"Stay here and I'll whistle for you."

"No, I heard you the first time. It just made as much sense as a stone boat."

"It's too close quarters for you. There's no room to maneuver."

"But I can still…

Annoyance crossed Paul's face. "We don't have time to discuss this, Sonic. Just… stay here, okay? You're still a child, and I know what I'm doing."

"But…"

Paul wasn't listening anymore. He nipped around the corner before Sonic could say anything more. Sonic turned away in a huff, arms crossed in frustration. For a moment or two he had thoughts only for his resentment. It couldn't last, not in a place like this. Before long, nervousness overtook him, and forced alertness upon him. He scanned his surroundings. His restless eyes settled on something he should have noticed earlier.

There were two hover units in this hangar.

There was only supposed to be one.

This wasn't what was supposed to happen! As panic gripped Sonic, he turned back towards the hall. He was just in time to hear Paul scream.

"AaaaAAAAAHHH!"

Sonic started to turn the corner—and a blaster bolt flew past his face, filling his nostrils with ozone stench and causing him to shrink back in horror. If Sonic had been the slightest bit faster, the bolt would have struck him in the head, and he would have dropped dead. The part of Sonic that did the running realized this instantly, and seized command of the hedgehog's legs. He backpedaled, almost stumbling in his haste.

More blaster bolts impacted against the end of the hallway. Each one seared lines of light across Sonic's vision. Alarms went off, flooding the station in crimson and an ear-splitting, thought-ending noise.

Sonic lost it. He surrendered to his legs.

He ran.

* * *

><p>The four children of the other group heard the alarms sounding. Each knew what they meant. Their panic was contagious, and spread from one to the other instantly, and grew and grew as it rebounded amongst them. No echo chamber can hope to replicate the way that hysteria can feed upon itself. It was so intense their feet felt cemented to the ground.<p>

Antoine was the first to crack. When he couldn't take it anymore, he screamed, "RUN!"

That broke the spell. They ran.

* * *

><p>They didn't stop when they were fully in the trash heaps.<p>

They didn't stop when they left the trash heaps and entered the fallow lands.

They didn't stop when they reached the forest's edge.

They didn't stop when they reached the deep forest.

They were young, and fit, and scared completely out of their minds. So they didn't stop until they'd eaten up the kilometers between them and Knothole.

* * *

><p>Sonic was first to make it back. He didn't stop in Knothole proper. Instead he sped right through until he reached the ring pool.<p>

He'd run so fast even he was out of breath, and he was hyperventilating even though he didn't need to. He slumped to his hands and knees and heaved himself towards the pool. His head was spinning. Sonic hadn't tasted alcohol, but a similar sensation of having lost touch with reality was overriding his senses. He edged his head out over the pool.

He saw his reflection. He hated what he saw.

He splashed the water to get the reflection away. It worked, for a moment. Then the waters calmed, and that hated face reformed. Sonic splashed again, and again, but no matter what he did the face would always come back.

Crying out in defeat, he rolled onto his back. It hurt to do so. On his back was something hard and unyielding. It made lying there intensely uncomfortable. He frowned in confusion and rolled onto his belly. He reached over his shoulder.

He gave a jerk. Realization was there but denial was stronger. He had to know. Haltingly, he reached into his backpack. The warm feeling that spread through his over-tensed muscles gave away the truth, but it didn't stop him. He withdrew his hand and brought it in front of his face.

In it was an unused Power Ring.

* * *

><p>"Rosie."<p>

"Hm?" The old rodent jerked into wakefulness—and clamped her eyes shut against the morning light. Disorientation overtook her, robbing her of her balance. She almost fell out of her chair.

"Rosie."

Slowly, ever so slowly, Rosie began to get her bearings. Beneath her paws was the wood of her rocking chair. She was still dressed from the night before. She was still…

No, she wasn't still out in the… was she?

"Rosie," the voice said again, this time with a touch of urgency. It was a young voice—very young. Tails. The name helped Rosie get a grapple on her situation.

"What is it, honey?" Rosie mumbled.

"Sonic and the others aren't back yet."

That got Rosie's attention as nothing else had. Now she remembered. She'd been out, waiting for them, but they'd taken much longer than normal. So… she'd gotten her chair to sit and wait. And then…

It had been so long, she must have drifted off to sleep.

And now it was morning!

"They're not back yet?" said Rosie. Her voice was rushed and ended at a higher pitch than it'd begun.

"Nope," said Tails mildly. "I was hoping you'd seen them."

Rosie rose from her chair so fast she almost stumbled. "But it's morning! They should have been back hours ago!"

"Be careful, Rosie," said Tails, as if that was the most important matter at hand. He helped her stand.

The elderly chipmunk felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, but it barely registered beneath the sound of alarms in her head. She looked at Tails—and regained a small measure of control. She had to put on a brave face, for his sake if nothing else. "Alright, darling, maybe we just missed them," Rosie said. It took all her effort to keep her voice steady. "So let's check around."

It was a doomed effort and she knew it. That just piled guilt about her deception on top of the wrenching feeling that tore up her torso.

Rosie walked down Knothole's 'street'. Tails flit on ahead of her, peeking in windows with bottomless hope. Even when they got to the end without finding a soul, there was only the slightest negativity when he told Rosie, "I don't see them anywhere."

Rosie's heart fluttered in her chest. "Well—well, we'd better check the ring pool, then—oh! There they are!"

The elderly woman started to run for the children, but the sight of them caused her to pull up. They were bedraggled and dirty. Bits of things—ranging from innocuous leaves to foul refuse from the trash heaps—had gotten wrapped up in their fur. Their eyes were bloodshot and puffy. They stunk of sweat and fear.

Beyond all of that, there was something even more off-putting. An aura of defeat and despair hung over the children. It was in the way they moved and the fact that none of them talked.

"Oh, dear me," Rosie said. "What happened? Where's Paul?"

"Ah'm goin' ta bed!" Bunnie said, and her voice tailed off into a wail. Rotor said nothing, but seconded her emotion. Both of them went their separate ways, passing on either side of Rosie.

"Rosie," Sally said. Her voice was hoarse and choked. "Antoine needs help."

Antoine was no longer moving on his own. He was staring blankly forward. He was like a jug that's been recently emptied. "What's wrong?" Rosie asked.

Since Antoine made no move, Sally grabbed Antoine's wrists and lifted them up to eye level. Antoine's head moved slightly in response, but his eyes were out of focus. Rosie gasped. Antoine's hands had been slashed and torn. Small shards of who knew what glimmered from inside the wounds.

"He was in front when we were running through the trash heaps," Sally said. It sounded as if every word had to be forced out of her. "We ran into a dead end, but he… he seemed to sense a way out. He scrambled up one of the heaps. When he got to the top, it fell over, and we escaped. Rosie, it was all metal and glass…"

"In the trash heaps? Then there's not a moment to lose. Tails, go and get a bucket of water. Sally, the first-aid kit and a towel."

The children obeyed immediately. Neither looked as if any other thought could enter their heads at the moment.

"Come now, Antoine," Rosie said gently. She began to ease Antoine back in the direction of her hut. It would be easiest there. He offered no resistance. It was as if his body had left his mind behind somewhere during the night. Getting him to come along was little more complicated than moving a large doll. Navigating him through the doorway took a bit more patience, but he wasn't going anywhere on his own. She had him sit on the bed.

Tails and Sally brought what Rosie had asked for. Rosie looked into the first-aid kit. She still had plenty of gauze, and the tweezers were good forever, but there was precious little else. Drops of disinfectant, a handful of pills, a few swallows of medicine—all carefully husbanded to get them through long years without resupply. Could she stretch this much further? Could she keep enough to get them through a true emergency?

She looked at Antoine's hands. Probably not. Tetanus, metal poisoning, infection, and who knew what else awaited him if she held back. Maybe this was the emergency she'd been saving for.

She knelt down in front of him. "Tails, I'll need another towel." The fox kit dashed away to fetch it.

"What for?" asked Sally.

"Because my knees hurt in this position. And to get rid of Tails for a time." She looked evenly at Antoine. "Now, Antoine… this will be painful."

For the first time he seemed to respond. The side of his mouth twitched. His face dipped, ever so slightly, before rising again.

Rosie brandished the tweezers, sucked in a breath, and set to work.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


End file.
